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A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 529: Because Peace Lasted Too Long · Oct 14, 2026

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Chapter List (976)

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501 Chapter 508 2026-10-14
502 Chapter 509 2026-10-14
503 Chapter 510 2026-10-14
504 Chapter 511 2026-10-14
505 Chapter 512 2026-10-14
506 Chapter 513 2026-10-14
507 Chapter 459: What a Knight Wants to Protect Is Pride 2026-10-14
508 Chapter 461: I Never Dreamed of Becoming a Knight in the First Place 2026-10-14
509 Chapter 462: In Honor of Knight Oara 2026-10-14
510 Chapter 463: Reflecting 2026-10-14
511 Chapter 464: Blocking the Gate and Speaking 2026-10-14
512 Chapter 465: As They Walked with the City at Their Backs 2026-10-14
513 Chapter 466: They Were No Longer Equal 2026-10-14
514 Chapter 467: Calculating Eyes 2026-10-14
515 Chapter 496: Along With Recovery 2026-10-14
516 Chapter 514: The Difference 2026-10-14
517 Chapter 515: Everything Had Changed 2026-10-14
518 Chapter 516: The Giant Who Sold Goods 2026-10-14
519 Chapter 517: Rotten Eyes 2026-10-14
520 Chapter 518: Because One Who has a Dream Helps Another Who Has a Dream 2026-10-14
521 Chapter 519: If She Were a Daughter, the Stepmother Would Be Jealous 2026-10-14
522 Chapter 520: The Next Victim 2026-10-14
523 Chapter 521: Greed Pushes from Behind 2026-10-14
524 Chapter 522: No Regrets 2026-10-14
525 Chapter 523: What Is Honor? 2026-10-14
526 Chapter 524: Brother Who Knows How to Fight, Come on Out 2026-10-14
527 Chapter 525: Four 2026-10-14
528 Chapter 526: Big Brother, Little Brother, and Big Sister 2026-10-14
529 Chapter 527: Ordinary Finn 2026-10-14
530 Chapter 528: Fucking Сheat 2026-10-14
531 Chapter 529: Because Peace Lasted Too Long 2026-10-14
532 Chapter 530: Anxiety and Conviction 2026-10-14
533 Chapter 531: Not All Knights are the Same 2026-10-14
534 Chapter 532: With a Weighting Blade 2026-10-14
535 Chapter 533: Seizure 2026-10-14
536 Chapter 534: Walked a Road Without Walls 2026-10-14
537 Chapter 535: If You Think You Can, Then Do It 2026-10-14
538 Chapter 536: What Is Barnas’s Dream 2026-10-14
539 Chapter 537: The Corrupted Ones 2026-10-14
540 Chapter 538: Turns Out the World Has More Fools Than Expected 2026-10-14
541 Chapter 539: The Knight Who Fells a Thousand 2026-10-14
542 Chapter 540: Armistice 2026-10-14
543 Chapter 541: The Knight of Iron Walls 2026-10-14
544 Chapter 542: Now Speak 2026-10-14
545 Chapter 543: A Night Stroll and an Encounter 2026-10-14
546 Chapter 544: Fiery Speech 2026-10-14
547 Chapter 545: Not All Kings Are the Same 2026-10-14
548 Chapter 546: It Will be Fun 2026-10-14
549 Chapter 547: Fallen Clemenсе 2026-10-14
550 Chapter 548: Uncle 2026-10-14

“The Moonlight Fairy unit is a pretty decent force.”

Barnas Hurrier said abruptly.

His adjutant turned to look at him, wondering why he was saying that all of a sudden.

“It just feels a bit wasteful to use them like this, that’s all.”

The one known as Azpen’s final weapon smacked his lips.

“But in return, we only showed the enemy’s scouts what we wanted them to see.”

Which meant—even the enemy’s movements were manipulated to follow their plan.

“Yeah, well. Even if it’s a waste, you have to use what you’ve got when it matters. Hoarding things only turns them into shit.”

Why was he bringing this up now? Who knew.

As the adjutant stared blankly, Barnas curled up that large mouth of his into a grin and chopped at a branch with sharp leaves in his way.

With just the edge of his hand, he sliced through the thick, living branch—it cracked apart with a clean snap.

It was always impressive.

Something his adjutant could never imitate.

He wasn’t even at the level of a junior knight, so of course it was out of reach.

His talent didn’t lie in displaying brute strength.

Instead, he knew how to command a unit meant to face off against unforeseen forces—in other words, how to deal with knights.

That didn’t mean he could beat them or kill them.

That level of power was disaster-tier.

So it wasn’t about confronting them—it was about surviving them.

“Would be nice if they made it back alive.”

Barnas muttered again.

By his calculations, the Moonlight Fairy unit had a low chance of survival.

Whether they clashed with the enemy directly, or looped around and ran into one of the enemy knights—either way, it wouldn’t end well.

And yet, Barnas had sent them off knowingly.

Of course, the commander leading the Moonlight Fairies didn’t know that.

Not everyone present on this battlefield was driven by some noble sense of duty.

Especially since those fairies were more like allies by arrangement.

So yes, they were somewhat disposable.

The adjutant and field commander looked down at the ground as he replied,

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

They’d obviously make it back.

The Moonlight Fairy unit couldn’t just be dismissed as a simple recon squad.

If they were all killed here, even Azpen would be in trouble.

Why wouldn’t he be? That force had been borrowed through an alliance with the Moonlight Fairies.

If they were wiped out, even the diplomatic ties would suffer.

Thinking that, the commander walked forward, pressing his feet into the earth.

Untrodden ground was always a pain to walk on.

This place was no different.

Even though Naurillia had cleared out the monsters and made a path for humans, it was still a temporary measure—the road hadn’t been properly paved.

It wasn’t like hunters traveled through the Pen-Hanil range regularly.

There were no narrow woodland trails to speak of.

Only occasional paths where beasts and monsters roamed.

In other words, the route was just one rough, jagged trail after another, with sharp rock formations sticking out like natural traps.

It wasn’t flat either. Slopes came frequently, and just marching across this terrain would drain a soldier’s stamina.

The adjutant was thankful it was daytime.

Even with a well-trained unit, marching through a place like this at night would’ve been hell.

They couldn’t just abandon someone if they twisted an ankle.

The terrain was gradually improving.

Those jagged rocks were disappearing, and the slopes were ending.

They were close to the target location.

“Just saying.”

Barnas’s voice came again.

The adjutant, scanning the road, looked up at him.

At times he could be cruel. At others, cold-hearted.

But if you looked from another angle, he could also seem warm.

No one’s made up of just one side.

It all depends on perspective.

Barnas Hurrier was that kind of man.

And so was Abnaier.

He cared for refugees.

He donated silver coins to orphanages filled with children who’d lost their parents in the war.

He became a father figure to some of them.

Respected monks, prayed sincerely, and worked himself half to death for the kingdom—staying up several nights in a row.

And now, in this war, the victory Abnaier aimed for was one built atop sacrifice.

Azpen wasn’t moving only with a handful of elites.

“Wasn’t this army originally prepared to challenge the Empire?”

Barnas had sent Azpen’s main knightly force to the place they were truly needed.

Which meant—only a portion of the army, including the adjutant and commander alongside Barnas himself, remained here.

“That’s correct.”

The adjutant answered with an emotionless voice.

He’d been like that since earlier, and Barnas clicked his tongue in mild annoyance—though he didn’t bother to say anything about it.

Abnaier had said it, and Barnas had agreed:

These soldiers would be the sacrifice.

They would charge into the enemy to leave a scratch—knowing full well they wouldn’t return.

No one knew how many knights would come from Naurillia, but Abnaier wanted a guaranteed victory.

So he prepared numbers.

He paired knights with full armies.

These soldiers would die—and Barnas would write the word “victory” atop their corpses.

That was Abnaier’s strategy.

“You don’t trust me?”

Barnas asked.

“I just want reassurance.”

Abnaier had shaken his head and replied.

He was confident in victory because he had set the stage himself.

He didn’t believe he could lose.

He’d even pulled out the hidden forces he’d meant to deploy only after defeating Greenperl—his trump card, prepared long before that past defeat.

There were no traps like the ones they’d used to corner Enkrid before.

This time, it was force against force.

Only—he planned to weaken them first.

It was a battle that could decide their fate.

And a bold investment.

Sending people to their deaths while lying to them?

It was sheer madness.

Most strategists wouldn’t even consider such a thing.

Hell, they couldn’t even imagine it.

And even if they could imagine it, they’d never do it.

But Abnaier was no ordinary strategist.

Heroes praised by all and pathetic losers cursed by street urchins—the difference between the two was often just one bold decision.

If he won, no one would fault his ruthlessness.

And even if they did—who cared?

By then, he’d have the power to ignore them all.

“Nice weather.”

Barnas muttered as he reached the place Abnaier had calculated.

With him were fifty heavy infantry soldiers, led by their field commander.

Each one held a solid steel spear—thick, unbreakable, and heavy.

“Got anything to eat?”

It was still before the enemy arrived.

Barnas began munching on some bread and salted meat to fill his belly.

Meanwhile, the troops began preparing for battle.

Clink, clank—

They donned their armor.

The designs varied slightly, but they all followed the same basic concept:

Wearing arming doublets beneath, with mail over the joints, and either reinforced steel plates or more chain armor layered on top.

If someone swung a Will-infused blow at them—how many hits could they endure?

Barnas was confident that he could take out at least one with every strike.

If he went all out, he could probably cut down as many as needed.

But what if—while he was slicing them down one by one—a wolf beastkin knight from long ago struck from behind?

‘Damn, I’m pretty shameless, huh?’

Did that make it dishonorable?

Not at all.

Barnas was brazen, and that brazenness held his will firm, deep within.

He accepted this as part of his strategy.

So he felt no shame.

“Don’t you ever wonder how we ended up fighting like this?”

Barnas, bored, tried roping the adjutant into conversation again.

The adjutant wasn’t stupid—he was fully aware of what was happening.

What he didn’t know was just how cold and ruthless Abnaier could be.

Then again, maybe he did know and came along anyway.

Barnas didn’t bother asking.

Whether he knew or not, nothing would change.

And it wouldn’t help if the soldiers behind them, already fully prepped, overheard it.

Barnas asked why this fight was happening.

The field commander, though stubborn and moody, still respected the knight—so he answered.

“It’s because Border Guard grew too powerful.”

If the Border Guard itself could hear that, it’d probably scoff and call it nonsense.

But it wasn’t entirely wrong.

Of course, the Border Guard was a city and couldn’t talk, so the one who’d be furious was probably Kraiss.

There had never been a time without fighting on this continent, but major wars had become rare.

Years passed like that.

While grand-scale battles dwindled and only local skirmishes occurred, Naurillia made a fatal mistake.

Thanks to Count Molsen’s exploits, a historically powerful kingdom was teetering on collapse.

And everyone else?

They just watched with their arms crossed.

If Naurillia collapsed and turned to chaos, not just Azpen—every nation would seize the moment to act.

That so-called lull had lasted decades.

But were the strong just twiddling their thumbs all that time?

No.

The truly dangerous figures... were preparing.

Preparing for the coming storm.

For the era ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) of war that would inevitably arrive.

The war that would set the continent ablaze.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

No one knew whether it would start with the Demon Realm or a nation, or whether anything would even happen at all.

But they prepared.

“Every nation stockpiled strength. And by strength, I mean...”

“Yeah, I’m not the only one who raised knights, right? That it?”

Barnas played the attentive listener, chiming in with a nod.

The adjutant nodded in return.

At his side, a visored helmet hung from his belt.

“The southern great nation, of course... even Kairos and the Holy Kingdom would’ve moved toward the center if Naurillia had fallen.”

That was the commander’s prediction.

Neither Barnas nor the commander were prophets.

They simply acknowledged the facts.

But Naurillia, which had seemed on the verge of being shredded by Count Molsen, made a comeback.

And the turning point—was the Border Guard.

The conclusion—the Demon Slayer.

They showed their strength without restraint, and from that emerged a powerful king.

Sure, there had been diplomatic moves, sabotage from other nations, but ultimately, Naurillia overcame it all and survived.

Those who had been rooting for Molsen’s success tried the next move.

If things stayed like this, they’d lose both Greenperl and momentum.

At least one nation’s power would inevitably decline.

And that was Azpen.

So it was only natural they acted now.

Those who once prayed in secret for Naurillia’s downfall—be it by faith or sorcery—were now all united again.

And now, likely, the south would launch its yearly assault, just to keep the Red Cloak Order stuck in place.

Kairos, on Naurillia’s northwest border, would likely stir as well.

And even the Holy Kingdom would file formal protests.

Some of these would be mere threats.

Others would just be annoying chatter.

But even that much, Barnas counted as a win.

‘Especially now that their full power’s been exposed.’

The ones who had led Naurillia to this point—

From the outside, it looked like they’d finally shown the cards they’d kept hidden.

And their performance had revealed their capabilities.

Yeah, they were strong.

Barnas could admit that.

But they’d revealed themselves too well.

From Azpen’s perspective, the enemy knew little about them—but they had learned a lot.

That’s why the strategy shifted from light probing strikes...to full commitment.

Also, Azpen had already been beaten down and lost Greenperl.

So here’s the question.

What happens after the Border Guard falls?

Then, and only then, will Naurillia scramble to send the Red Cloak Knights.

By then, Azpen would already be patting their bellies, having devoured Greenperl.

Conflict.

War.

The beginning of the storm.

“We’ve been too peaceful for too long.”

Barnas said this without a second thought—a statement that would’ve earned curses from anyone who’d lost family, friends, or lovers in war.

But on a continental scale?

He wasn’t wrong.

Even the battles between Azpen and the Border Guard weren’t large-scale by macro standards.

While making small talk and filling his stomach, the brush on the opposite side rustled—sharp leaves and twigs falling to the ground with slicing sounds.

It looked as if a rift had been torn through the forest.

Light filtered through it.

That light touched the corneas of those watching, refracted through their lenses, and allowed them to recognize the shapes within.

“Only two?”

Barnas asked as he spotted them.

This wasn’t just a destination.

It was a battlefield.

Not quite a clearing, but an area where the brush had been trimmed to create space.

Two figures stepped into it.

One fairy. One human.

The human was a blond man wielding a black greatsword.

Barnas had heard of him.

He recognized the face.

“So you’re the lunatic butcher?”

The human turned his head slightly.

His gaze shifted toward the fairy.

“What’ve you been killing?”

“Not me. He’s talking to you. Dimwit. Even barbarians have the right to insult you.”

“Me?”

Shinar ignored Ragna’s jab and looked forward.

There stood an older beastkin, resembling a dog.

Or maybe he was elderly—since beastkin tended to stay in their prime far longer than humans.

“Old mutt?”

“You’ve got a sharp tongue.”

Barnas brushed off his pants and stood.

He pulled his weapon from his waist and slipped it onto his hand.

It was a claw weapon—three sharp talons attached to the back of his hand, with a metal brace extending up to the elbow, tied securely at the wrist.

“Lost a few nails in fights when I was younger.”

He used to fight barehanded.

But ten years ago, he’d lost two fingers to that bastard Cypress from the Red Cloak Order.

Since then, his weapon of choice had been the claw.

It embarrassed him a bit—having to use something that wasn’t his own flesh—so Barnas offered the explanation like an excuse.

But none of those present knew his embarrassment.

And really, who cared?

“Entire unit, prepare!”

His adjutant shouted.

The human and fairy snapped their attention forward.

Their heads turned.

Their eyes—no longer playful or curious—focused sharply on Barnas.

The enemy’s unit raised their massive steel spears, tips reaching toward the sky.

At their front—a beastkin, likely a knight.

“A knight, huh?”

Barnas asked.

He felt lucky.

If two were here, then the others elsewhere would be easier to deal with.

The lunatic butcher didn’t answer.

He simply raised his sword.

...Come to think of it, had this bastard ever answered a single one of his questions?

No. Not once.

“This fucker.”

Barnas chuckled to himself.

Something about him was just so damn irritating.

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