A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

There was no reason to beat around the bush, nor any intention to do so, so it was straightforward.

Shinar blinked her characteristic green eyes. The wind blew, pushing and tugging at her blonde hair, making it sway.

Her hair scattered like fine golden threads in the air before gently settling down again.

She was always said to have an unearthly beauty, but right now, it made one wonder if such a face could truly exist in this world.

Even among fairies, such looks would not be common.

No matter how comfortable the journey, it was never easy to wash properly, and yet her skin didn’t have a single blemish.

Enkrid, too, was born with flawless skin, but hers seemed to shine with its own light.

It even reflected sunlight.

If Crang drew people’s attention with speeches and Enkrid did so with swordplay, then Shinar could probably gather attention with her beauty alone, if she wished.

She looked at Enkrid with eyes that seemed to be pondering something for a brief moment, then opened her mouth.

Including Audin, all three of them did not stop walking.

Amidst the sound of their soft footsteps, Shinar’s voice added a melody, like some instrument was playing.

“My name is Shinar Kirhais. I was born and raised in a fairy family, and I am a fairy knight. Yes, I wish to belong to your order.”

Shinar did not say things like her life was limited, that she might eventually have to leave the order, or that her duties ahead were not light.

She had learned something else while watching Enkrid all this time, besides dreaming and learning not to give up.

And what was that?

This man never hastily judged the future. Instead, he simply lived the present, the moment, and today to the fullest.

Shinar had learned that, and so she acted accordingly.

To enjoy today, now, this moment.

Right now, she did not want to leave Enkrid’s side.

“I don’t need to be vice-captain. I am content with my current position.”

She didn’t even leave room for him to tell her she could leave if she wanted. Shinar said everything she wished to say.

There was no reason not to accept her into the order, and Enkrid’s heart agreed as well.

The fairy who enjoyed jokes, Shinar, had tried to save herself even as her body turned into dust.

On that day, when she activated her Will and was dying, Enkrid could never forget that version of Shinar.

Recalling that moment, Enkrid nodded and made up his mind.

If there was something she wished for, and if it was within his reach.

At that moment, to repay all the help he had received from Shinar, from the past to now.

Having decided so, a phrase suddenly caught at his ear.

Didn’t Shinar say she was satisfied with her current position?

“But what exactly is your current position?”

Besides vice-captain, what was she talking about?

“The captain’s fiancée, the mother of the children you will have — isn’t that enough?”

The fairy’s joke exploded without even a hint of a smile.

Audin chuckled softly beside them.

Enkrid wanted to scold him as a captain, asking who dared laugh so disrespectfully, but he held it in.

Because he himself ended up smiling too.

“It’s good to see you smile.”

A faint smile floated over the usually expressionless fairy’s face. Just the slight curve of Shinar’s lips seemed enough to kill some men across the continent.

Of course, all of them would die from a pandemic of lovesickness.

After Shinar, Enkrid turned his questions toward Audin as well.

When asked what he wished for, Audin offered a short prayer seeking his Lord Father, then turned his gaze to the distance and said,

“I wish to spread the teachings of the Holy War. I want to protect the unfortunate. I want to deliver happiness amidst sorrow. I wish to care for children who have become orphans. I wish to meet those whom, following the Lord Father’s teachings, I must send to His side. Well, isn’t it all possible by staying with you, my captain brother? That’s why I’m here. It’s also God’s will. Above all, I believe I am doing what I must in my current position.”

The way he spoke one after another made it seem like Audin might be the most eloquent speaker in the whole unit.

Aside from Kraiss and himself, that is.

Come to think of it, Kraiss was also accepted into the order.

It was officially easier to guard and protect someone when they belonged to the order.

Otherwise, his position would have become awkward.

“Pleasure! Salon! City! Ladies! Gold coins!”

Kraiss expressed his reasons for staying in the order in just five words. Indeed, his dreams were vivid and crystal clear.

Generally, the order only accepted those who had proven their strength in combat, but if one were to nitpick, even Odd-Eye was an exception. He wasn’t even human.

They had even accepted a witch.

Thus, a little bending of common norms was acceptable.

“Yeah, fine.”

Enkrid just nodded.

Thus, with Kraiss included, their strange order was formed, but it didn’t matter since it wasn’t established to impress anyone.

‘Mad Knights.’

They had certainly chosen the perfect name.

Thinking that, Enkrid continued walking.

They crossed open fields, climbed mountain trails, and walked diligently.

Since the dream talk, Audin had been quite talkative.

“Those overwhelmed by hardship, consumed by misfortune — if they seek the Lord, He will be their strength. Just as you are, brother.”

It sounded similar to Enkrid’s earlier declaration to protect their backs.

“Why did you follow me?”

When Enkrid asked, Audin showed an awkward smile.

Even if he had something he wished for, there was no real reason to follow him.

Was it like the time he followed him to the capital, trying to escape from the prison of delusion?

But for that, he expressed his willingness to join quite actively.

Even now, when asked, he made a face like he didn’t want to answer. And if he made such a face, it meant there was a clear reason.

Still, Enkrid didn’t ask again.

If he didn’t want to reveal his heart, what was the point of forcing it?

After walking northward for about two days, things started to get a little boring.

They were reviewing, training, and sparring, but they hadn’t even seen a monster or a beast.

Even though safe routes weren’t yet fully established in this region, strangely, it was hard to encounter anything.

As for bandits, extermination orders had been issued across the kingdom, and most would rather risk their lives migrating to Border Guard areas than starve to death while hiding.

It was widely known throughout Naurillia that if you made it to Border Guard, you wouldn’t starve.

It was the handiwork of Kraiss and the Gilpin Guild, which had now evolved into a full-fledged intelligence guild.

As words tend to spread faster and faster once they get rolling.

Of course, that didn’t mean all criminal groups had vanished.

In various cities, fraternities still banded together, doing all sorts of things.

Some of them cloaked themselves in grand causes while behaving like mere bandits; some doubled as intelligence brokers.

No matter how good life was, there would always be those involved in shady dealings.

As long as humans lived, crime could not be eradicated.

It was just that Enkrid believed certain lines must not be crossed.

Crossing the line meant things like this:

Kidnapping people to dissect them in the name of magic research, using people for drug experiments, or tying up children in the forest as offerings to gods.

Idolatry was fine, but why they committed such insane acts was beyond him.

There were plenty more unspeakable things being done, and if he encountered such filth, he would cut them down without hesitation.

Compared to that, those who merely charged tolls were much preferable. Those insane or grotesquely ideological types deserved only death.

Anyway, perhaps because there were no monsters around, Audin revealed part of his inner thoughts.

“Do you know who they call a Saint?”

“A symbol of divinity ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) designated by the Church.”

“You are cynical, brother.”

“Am I wrong?”

Shinar chimed in as well. She, too, knew the current Church had plenty of rotten and festering parts.

“A Saint is someone who truly possesses special divinity. So it is for the Holy Child as well. If it’s a girl, she’s called a Saint; if a boy, a Holy Child.”

Indeed, the current Church did have a few recognized Saints and Holy Children.

“There was a boy I once knew, who was called a Holy Child.”

It sounded like the beginning of an intriguing story.

They still had a few more days of walking to reach the city, and there were no monsters around, so it was a welcome distraction.

Audin quietly began recounting his old story.

***

“My name is Pildin. And you are?”

It had been autumn then, too.

Countless leaves, turned brown, had fallen beneath the tree, forming a soft cushion. A child sat under it.

You didn’t need to look twice to see the exhaustion written all over him.

Audin had stopped by the monastery after a long time.

It was a secluded part of the monastery — a place where Audin had prayed and pondered alone since he was young.

And in that place, there was a child.

His dark brown hair looked nearly black, and his eyes were a dull, muddy brown.

Yes, those eyes looked terribly dull.

Which only made the fatigue more apparent. He looked more like a weathered old man than a child.

Maybe that’s why his casual, dismissive tone didn’t feel strange.

Audin answered him without hesitation.

“I’m Audin Pmrei.”

“Oh, monastery guy?”

“I stayed at the monastery for a time.”

“A martial monk?”

He meant those commonly referred to as monks.

The monastery Audin had stayed in also trained martial artists, so it was a natural question.

And looking at Audin’s body, it was the kind of question one might naturally ask.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“But not anymore?”

“Now I work as an inquisitor.”

It was a short leave, and he had come to ease his troubled heart.

“Catching heretics? Ah, I see.”

“And Brother Pildin, what do you do?”

“Me? I make medicine.”

He wasn’t an alchemist. Anyone could see that. He didn’t have that kind of atmosphere at all.

“I spend all day in the basement making potions. Feels like I’m gonna die like this, but I keep living anyway.”

Pildin, that boy, was a Holy Child of the Temple of Plenty.

Plenty symbolized the goddess of the earth.

When the twin gods of the balance — those governing the sun and the moon — split into Radiance, Holy Light, and the darkness of the depths, the god of Plenty, who formed the earth, embraced the underworld.

That’s how the teachings of the Holy War go.

And the god of Plenty was said to be the lord of all that falls to the ground — which is why they never neglected caring for orphans.

And aside from that, eight out of ten divine energy potions distributed across the continent came from the Temple of Plenty.

The war priests might joke about healing with spit and had no interest in potion-making, but the priests of Plenty were different.

They created and supplied an enormous amount of potions.

For the record, war god apostles were not actually taught to heal with spit.

Their doctrine was to train and train again until the body healed on its own.

That’s where the regeneration technique came from.

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Would you be? It’s boring as hell.”

Pildin said as he lifted a finger and summoned holy light. That alone was astonishing.

To manifest divinity with such a simple motion and make it visible — it was remarkable.

“Hm.”

Audin murmured in surprise.

Then a voice called out from behind.

“Sir Pildin, Sir Pildin!”

“They’re calling you back.”

Audin said.

“I don’t want to be a Holy Child.”

The boy replied.

There was a strange dissonance between the words — like hearing a broken instrument trying to play a tune — but back then, Audin didn’t think much of it.

He’d hated monastery life once, too.

It had felt suffocating and stifling. He’d been twelve or thirteen. He didn’t even know why, but he wanted to run away.

The Holy War, the teachings, the monastery life — he didn’t exactly hate any of it. It was all fine. But still, he felt that way.

Maybe Pildin did too?

But even if he didn’t — what could Audin have done?

Nothing.

What could an inquisitor or a lowly believer say?

At the time, Audin couldn’t even properly handle his divine energy.

Pildin wore white robes made of the finest cloth. His hair was neat. Though he looked tired, he was well-fed and well-rested.

He seemed a little frail — maybe some stone-lifting and strength training would do him good — but that wasn’t Audin’s place to say.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just die?”

The boy’s childish outburst. Audin thought so. Or rather, chose to think so.

Standing against the Church — that was something unimaginable to him at the time.

Soon enough, the people searching for Pildin arrived. They gently scolded him for wandering off, saying something terrible could have happened.

Audin watched from a distance and then turned away.

Their meeting had been brief, but perhaps it was the moment Audin began to develop mistrust toward the Church.

Later on, Audin happened to hear news of the boy named Pildin.

“Holy Child Pildin is dead. They say he died trying to cure a plague. That’s what I heard.”

A plague? Where?

He had never heard of any such rumor.

Apparently, some rural town had fallen ill.

And Holy Child Pildin sacrificed himself to eliminate it.

Audin was on a mission, tracking a suspected heretic.

He was still wrestling with right and wrong — so he sought out the town Pildin supposedly saved.

But in that town, no one knew the name Pildin.

“A plague? Oh, yeah, a few people got sick, but they got better quickly.”

That was it. Pildin’s story ended there.

Should he have pressed further? He should have.

Does he regret it? He does.

But at the time, the darkness that wrapped around Audin kept him from acting.

Still, one doubt continued to torment him like a storm in the dark.

“Why did you pretend not to know? You knew. You knew I was going to die. That I’d be drained of my divinity and wither away. You knew.”

It was a nightmare he’d had hundreds of times.

Pildin, crying tears of blood, cursing Audin.

And now, Audin looked straight at Pildin’s hallucination — one only he could see — and spoke.

“I don’t know if the reason that child died was an accident or something else, but for me, with doubt growing like a monster inside... the appearance of the Saint no longer feels like a coincidence.”

Enkrid spoke, borrowing Audin’s words.

“You think the Lord Father sent a revelation?”

Audin answered with a faint smile. Pildin’s illusion still lingered in his eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

Audin wanted to stay by Enkrid’s side, but had no intention of lifting the seal on himself.

“Oh, now you want to lift the seal? After abandoning me?”

Pildin’s phantom accused him.

But even so, he would not lift the seal.

Even though he had left, thinking that if his life was needed, and it could be of even the smallest help, he would gladly give it.

Unlike Enkrid, who had set out lightly, Audin was deadly serious.

Because right now, Audin was facing his guilt, his sins, and his past mistakes.

Whatever the outcome, Audin would act according to his beliefs.

“Right. Let’s go.”

Enkrid felt Audin’s resolve.

So then — what could he do for him?

Nothing. But if something really had happened, and the ones standing in their way were that kind of scum, then he would draw his sword regardless of their affiliation or rank.

There was no need to force himself to summon his will. No need to mentally ready his blade.

No determination was required. That had always been how Enkrid lived. It was simply who he was.

Audin knew that better than anyone — and that’s why he followed.

If trouble came, Enkrid would protect that child.

And maybe — just maybe — Audin would have a role to play as well.

When he first arrived at Border Guard, he never imagined he would ever set out again.

And yet, he’d left the capital twice already.

Once to fight.

Once to escape the prison of delusion.

Audin walked on, soaking in the scent of autumn that colored the world around him.

If this was to be his last excursion — he wanted to enjoy it fully.