A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“Tch, what a shame. Should’ve just left him behind.”

“Hm, he survived.”

“The Lord must not be ready to welcome our brother yet.”

“Mmm, I’d forgotten for a moment.”

“Arms and legs are intact. If they’re not cut off, you’re fine.”

“Is Frokk the same as a human? I wonder if he’s really alright, Sir Ragna.”

Those were the words Ragna heard just before he passed out.

Thinking back, the last two must have been Lua Gharne and Rophod.

The one who said he forgot was likely Enkrid.

First was the barbarian, then the stray cat, probably.

Skipping the middle part of his thoughts, Ragna opened his eyes and said,

“One hand’s enough.”

If you filled in the parts he skipped, it meant: even if all of you came at me at once, one hand would be enough.

Which also meant, regardless of his injuries, he was telling them to come at him.

“No need to cut off an arm for that, though?”

He thought he had just closed his eyes for a second, but that wasn’t it. The ceiling was unfamiliar, and a woman he didn’t recognize was staring right at him.

It was Anne, who called herself a healer. She stared quietly at the blond-haired Ragna and said,

“Rest. Eat well and rest for a few days, and take your medicine regularly.”

Her tone was firm and meticulous. At her words, Ragna gave a small nod. His limbs were wrapped in thick bandages, and though there was pain, it was far better than before he’d collapsed.

“Where am I?”

“The infirmary. Though it still leaves much to be desired. The so-called medics in the barracks don’t even know basic medicine, and half the alchemists who make potions act all high and mighty based on recipes they peeked over someone’s shoulder. The other half only know a handful of clumsy formulas they claim are ancient family heirlooms passed down for generations. Still, there’s one good thing. If you just say what you need, poof—it shows up.”

Anne said all this as she ground herbs into a wooden bowl.

Before the war began, Anne had been assigned to the medical corps. Enkrid had entrusted her to Shinar, but Shinar couldn’t exactly take care of her personally.

And so, Anne had ended up like a commoner at a noble’s banquet, surrounded by aristocratic heirs.

What was the term for this?

There was an old story like it. A common girl with a magical spell that turned her into a princess at midnight falls in love with a prince and seduces him with a glass slipper?

There was even a scene where the girl, bullied terribly at the party, got mad and used her slipper as a weapon—and ever since, people joked that if you have no weapons at a ball, just use your shoes.

She couldn’t recall it clearly, but that’s the memory that came to mind.

The fortunate thing, at least, was that although people stared at her, no one tried to assault her or looked at her with sleazy eyes.

Even being treated like a peasant didn’t last more than two days.

“Who are you again?”

“Anne.”

A big-eyed man had come by asking who the commander had brought, and then made space for her.

He’d told her to speak up if she needed anything, so Anne nodded and opened her mouth.

“A private room. Tools and equipment for research. If you can get books on alchemy, that would be great. And if there’s any alchemist staying in the city, I’d like to meet them.”

At her bold request, Kraiss had asked her what exactly she was. It was a bit incredulous, but Anne proudly declared herself a healer. Then, seeing his expression turn welcoming, the big-eyed man began taking care of her.

Kraiss wasn’t a fool. He knew well that most of the alchemists gathered in the city or invited personally were pseudo-alchemists at best.

Even if half were frauds, he figured it was better to offer some support rather than drive them out.

After all, throwing out bait would eventually draw in the real fish.

Still, it left a bit of a bitter taste.

It felt like tossing a handful of silver coins down a well.

These crazy alchemists took the silver but never gave anything back. Everyone was just a little off in some way. And then Anne showed up.

“A disciple of the alchemist Raban?”

“Yes, and I focused particularly on developing medicine and treating illnesses...”

“I see.”

After that, Anne’s life became peaceful, and her needs were met.

If there was more to hope for, it would be a truly great mentor.

But that was just wishful thinking.

In terms of ability, alchemists like Raban weren’t exactly common.

Even his potions were considered top-tier.

Potions—instant healing agents—were often called a “second life” on the continent.

Some were even sold under that name: Second Life.

These came in two main types—those imbued with divinity, monopolized and sold by the holy nations, and those produced by alchemists who inherited secret family recipes. Naturally, the former were superior in both safety and effectiveness.

They were just expensive and limited in number.

Still, some potions from famous workshops had built reputations. They sold well enough.

Raban had worked on potion research alongside Anne, so to Kraiss, Anne was someone who could develop potions.

She could heal people, perform surgery, set bones—she could do it all—but her real specialty was alchemy.

Even if she turned out to be a fraud, investment was, at its core, an act of faith, so Kraiss had provided what she asked for.

Soon, Anne had a private lab instead of a barracks cot, and with that, a treatment room too.

Naturally, she earned recognition for her skill.

Even under Raban, she’d been called a genius.

It would be nice if all talented people could seize opportunities and grow like this—but of course, that wasn’t always the case.

Some people, regardless of talent, just lived and died without ever blooming.

In that regard, Anne knew she was lucky. Still, her passion for studying and researching medical treatment was strong—so she wanted more.

That’s why she found herself rambling when she saw Ragna.

Aside from Ragna, the only other casualties from this battle had been ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) one soldier who twisted an ankle and the lord himself.

Frokk didn’t need her treatment, so that was all.

And the lord, as soon as his body recovered somewhat, had stormed out complaining that the treatment room was stuffy.

The soldier with the twisted ankle never needed to be there to begin with.

So Ragna was the only one seriously injured, lying there recovering.

There were others with minor colds or such, but right now, the entire city was celebrating.

The victory, the title of Iron Wall—it had everyone buzzing.

There wasn’t a single soldier lying in bed unless they were seriously ill.

That was the situation. And Ragna’s looks had struck a chord with Anne, prompting her to spill all her thoughts.

Hearing it all, Ragna opened his eyes just slightly and said lazily,

“I see.”

A reply that anyone could tell was completely disinterested.

“Uh... yeah, right. Okay.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Anne was a little flustered. Wasn’t it normal to get a bit excited when a girl as pretty as her showed interest?

That’s what she thought, at least—but Anne had never had any real experience with romantic relationships.

She’d only ever learned about them through books.

Anne stared blankly at Ragna’s half-lidded eyes and his unwashed, greasy blond hair.

If they cleaned him up and dressed him properly, he’d probably be pretty decent. Right now he was filthy, couldn’t bathe or eat well, and even his skin looked rough.

“My name is Anne.”

“I see.”

Ragna had already lost interest and just answered offhandedly, closing his eyes again.

Anne, looking at him, felt her heart thump.

What the hell is this bastard?

Even if he wasn’t interested, wasn’t it basic courtesy to offer his name in return?

She nearly blurted out a curse she’d picked up wandering the continent under Raban’s tutelage.

But to Ragna, the girl chattering in front of him didn’t even register.

He closed his eyes again.

The outcome of the battle was clear, but that didn’t matter.

One image kept lingering in his mind.

Ragna had seen what Enkrid did just before he used his broken sword as a cane and headed for the friendly camp.

‘What was that?’

A wall of pressure had stopped the enemy.

It was a form of Will he had never seen before in his life.

If his body were in better condition, he would have gone straight to ask about it.

But Ragna knew full well—he wasn’t in any shape for that now.

For now, he needed to rest.

“Now, speak.”

The dim lamplight illuminated only half of Shinar’s face, casting a deep shadow over her features.

“Was it Will?”

Enkrid also noticed the person sitting beside her, completely cloaked in darkness.

That sleazy stray cat—Jaxon. His presence was so faint, it wouldn’t have been surprising if he suddenly vanished without a trace.

“You shady bastard. Light a damn lamp back there.”

Fwoosh.

Across from them, Rem leaned forward and lit a candle from the extinguished lamp.

As the flame caught and spread to the brazier, the room brightened all at once.

A bear beast’s hide was hung on one wall, dry grass laid over the floor with a gray carpet atop it, and a peculiar bed built to head height was set into one side. A wooden desk sat beside it. It was Shinar’s room.

When she invited Enkrid to ask about what he did with the Iron Wall, the others had simply followed.

Where they gathered didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like Shinar spent much time in her own room anyway.

“Be careful with fire,” Shinar said, watching Rem light the lamp. For whatever reason, she was obsessive about fire safety, whether awake or asleep.

“Nobody’s gonna die if this place burns down,” Rem replied casually, snorting and nudging Enkrid’s elbow.

“Seriously, what did you do back there?”

“I’m more curious how you called my name like that, Brother.”

Following Rem, Audin also chimed in. Nearby were Teresa, Rophod, Pell, and Lua Gharne.

And just outside the quarters stood Odd-Eye, while Enkrid was petting Esther’s back. She was in leopard form, of course.

Esther purred in a low rumble.

She’d practically adopted the leopard form as her identity now—she almost never shifted into her human form anymore.

So yeah, it was a rare moment of peace.

The war was over. They’d spent the day drinking and stuffing themselves.

He’d even heard people murmuring the nickname Sword of Iron Walls.

Sounded a little better than Demon Slayer, maybe?

With a bit of idle thought, Enkrid gave a clipped answer to all their questions.

“What?”

“Oh, now you’re playing dumb? You’re real smooth, you sly dog.”

“We’re talking about what you did when that Iron Wall nickname got started.”

“You used some kind of special technique when you called me too, didn’t you? Don’t play coy, Brother Duckfeet.”

Audin had a habit of randomly changing the title before “brother” whenever he spoke.

Enkrid compiled all their questions. Rem and a few others who were knight-level or near it just seemed curious, but Rophod and Pell had sharper eyes.

Lua Gharne especially had staked out a spot with the resolve of crawling there if she had to, even with one leg missing.

Her eyes gleamed not like Frokk’s, but like a giant’s. Like her sockets were overflowing with oil.

Enkrid reflected on that moment and said,

“I built a wall. Poured pressure into it.”

That was it. He couldn’t explain in detail the surging Will, the rising emotional pitch, the omnipotent surge that burst forth because of it. He just kept pouring Will into it until it became something.

“That’s your explanation, really?” Rem snapped, clearly annoyed. It didn’t explain anything.

“Hm. That’s it?” Jaxon added.

Enkrid’s calm was usually something even knights struggled to match, but now, instead of Will, he felt a surge of irritation.

Criticizing him for not explaining?

Rem and Jaxon of all people didn’t get to talk.

“How did you call me like that, Brother?” Audin pressed again.

Not just the wall—when Enkrid called Audin’s name, he’d exploded his Will and done something similar.

So what was that, then?

“I called out with Will embedded in it.”

Enkrid replied in a more deliberate tone.

“I see.”

Audin smiled, but his expression was stiff. His eyes curled upward, but without warmth—it looked forced.

Rem’s complaint and Audin’s reaction were basically the same.

“I can’t explain it beyond that.”

Enkrid said again. And unintentionally, he realized this was how Rem, Jaxon, Ragna, and Audin must’ve felt every time they were asked to explain their techniques.

You could just do it. Explaining was the hard part.

Understanding that, he also understood their attitude.

So Enkrid replied accordingly:

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Haha.”

Surprisingly, it was Shinar who burst into laughter.

Rophod and Pell had pensive expressions, and Lua Gharne began muttering with eyes that seemed distant.

“What one can do with a Will like a gentle haze... You can’t build a fortress alone, but if you’re strong, maybe you can block a path with a single giant stone.”

In a way, she had grasped it well.

It was exactly that—achieved by brute-forcing an overwhelming Will into form.

“If you drape fear like a Grimée’s wings...”

“It’s like raising dozens of blades to threaten someone.”

“No need for multiple shields, Sister. You block with one. But that one shield has to be enormous, thick, and strong. Of course, the wall that Captain Brother made felt a bit... soft.”

As Rem, Jaxon, and Audin commented, Rem chimed in again.

“That’s true.”

“Bit of a dull edge.”

Each of them had interpreted Enkrid’s words in their own unique way.

That was genius-level comprehension.

Audin even explained it to Teresa as he went.

Enkrid smiled and blessed the group in front of him.

“Mutts born of four-legged beasts with human faces.”

In short, sons of man-faced dogs—a very creative curse.

Having said that, Enkrid dusted off his seat and stood.

They’d all gathered here by coincidence, but he had something to do tonight.

He’d originally come to see Shinar for that reason—and gotten sidetracked.

The request had come from Naurill.

“Let’s go. Jaxon.”

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going alone. Jaxon stood without a sound.

“Shinar?”

“O unshriveled fiancé who gave me laughter—yes, let’s go.”

Honestly, Demon Slayer might’ve been a better title than that.

As the three stood, Rem said he was off to sleep, and Audin left to pray.

The rest began to stir too.

Throwing on black cloaks as they stepped outside, they looked like figures who moved only by night.

“Fits you well. Three stray cats now?”

Rem mocked as he walked off.

What, did they all end up wearing black clothes just because it was nighttime?

It’s not like they could walk out in gem-studded armor.

That would only attract magic beasts or monsters who go wild at shiny things—not to mention completely exposing their movements.

This was a classified assignment.

Enkrid headed toward the outskirts of the city, specifically in the direction of Greenperl, with Jaxon and Shinar.

There, a carriage painted black was waiting for them.

Inside it, someone was already seated.

He waved out the window.

Once the three boarded the carriage, the masked man—his face fully covered—asked,

“How do I look?”

Enkrid replied flatly.

“Looks good on you.”

The carriage began to move.

Its destination—was the border.

Toward Azpen.