A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Rather than chasing the target, pursuing the pursuer and becoming the second pursuer proved far more effective than Enkrid had expected.

Much had changed since the days he wandered alone, chasing rumors.

Kraiss, after breaking through the safe road and stepping into trade, had established an information network in various places.

It wasn’t anything grand—he simply collected stories through cafeterias set up in different cities.

The owners and patrons of these cafeterias, wandering peddlers, storytellers, and so on—they earned a few coins in exchange for passing along new tales.

A few coins wasn’t a significant reward, but neither was it a great burden to share a story.

However, since the structure of this information exchange—this story circulation—was extremely simple, the speed at which information spread was fast.

To add one more thing: the envoys from the Holy Nation were distinct in appearance, so they weren’t exactly hard to find.

And they had no intention of hiding who they were.

‘Who would even think to pursue them?’

Probably no one. Naturally.

Whether it was a priest of Prosperity or of the Scales, the reason they requested a search for the Saintess in the Kingdom of Naurillia was—

Well, it wasn’t even a request. It was a notification.

We’re coming to your kingdom, we’re going to roam around a bit, so cooperate. What? No? Are you crazy? You don’t want potions? Don’t need them anymore? Fine, we won’t sell them to you anymore.

So, be nice, open your borders, let our forces pass freely. That way, no one gets hurt and everyone stays happy.

To summarize the tone of the message, it was something like that.

Not that they literally said it like that.

Outwardly, it was—

“We merely hope you will aid us in fulfilling the revelation from the Lord of Fruitfall.”

And perhaps they offered a gift set of a dozen potions.

Most likely.

Enkrid’s prediction had been spot-on. A delegate from the Holy Nation had delivered ten potions neatly wrapped, and Crang had accepted them eagerly.

On top of that—

“We will, without fail, lend our strength.”

was what they added.

It wasn’t about what gift they brought.

What mattered was that this was the image the Holy Nation wished to project.

They didn’t need a warm welcome or even an open border—if anything, they were asking not to be disturbed. If asked, perhaps open the checkpoints and offer assistance. But otherwise? Just stay out of their way.

Even a Saintess, in the eyes of the Kingdom of Naurillia, was just a girl. Would the kingdom really mobilize its forces to find one girl?

At most, they’d pass along warnings to be mindful of disturbances in various cities.

Deploy troops over this?

No way. Normally, that wouldn’t happen.

But Crang had made the request. And Enkrid had accepted it.

Crang’s intent? One letter was enough.

The child is crying, and I want to help.

Now then—

From here, things began to nag at him.

Pursuit? Sure, that’s fine.

But there were still things that didn’t sit right.

Rare though it was, Enkrid felt a curiosity so thick it resembled broth boiled for days with pig bones—deep, dense, concentrated.

‘How are they even managing to escape?’

Even if the kidnapper was one of the few knights on the continent, did that make any sense?

The Holy Nation’s strength wasn’t weak. They didn’t strut across the continent for no reason.

Even the Empire, which almost never interfered with central affairs, was said to step back in deference to the Holy Nation.

And from there, someone spirited away the Saintess?

Moreover, even if she was a child, dragging along an uncooperative companion—was it really possible to flee from the Holy Nation? Did they have additional help?

Enkrid tried to switch perspectives, but it didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

‘That doesn’t seem easy.’

Just going by what Audin had said—

The Saintess was an extremely, extraordinarily valuable asset. No way the Holy Nation’s priests would guard her carelessly.

Regular soldiers working in shifts might complain about fatigue, but faith-fueled devotees? They’d gladly endure.

Could anyone really steal her away from such a place?

And were her guardians just average followers? If so, the idea of kidnapping wouldn’t even have crossed their minds.

So how was it done? And how had they not been caught until now?

‘I’d really like to catch whoever it is.’

There were too many questions.

Not that he had any intention of just watching quietly. There was too much weighing on him.

To start with, Audin’s words kept itching at him.

He spoke of the past, and Enkrid had listened. But was it just about past events?

Just about regret and remorse?

Only the agony of reflecting on a moment of failure?

No.

In that bear-like man’s words were not only mistakes, reflection, and remorse, but will and resolve too.

And Enkrid had seen that attitude from Audin before.

He’d seen it on a day that had already passed.

During the process of realizing Will, when Audin was dying, light had poured from his body, and blood had streamed from every orifice on his face—eyes, nose, ears, mouth.

Enkrid remembered Audin, bleeding light.

The same intensity, the same posture, was there when he spoke of the past.

The only difference was, this time he wasn’t dying.

What he was thinking, what he meant—Enkrid didn’t know. Even if he asked, he wouldn’t get an answer. Still, just watching wasn’t enough.

Second thing nagging at him:

If the child really had been kidnapped, and that was all this was about—then he intended to treat that bastard of a kidnapper’s head like a roasted melon.

The moment they were caught? He’d split them open.

Walking, thoughts sorted but questions still lingering, Enkrid arrived at the first destination.

The walled city of Enkrid.

When he entered and asked for the mayor, the mayor came running barefoot.

Literally slammed the ground so hard dust flew up as he sprinted over, all to greet Enkrid.

“Welcome!”

Shouting on a dirt path where even rocks poked out, the barefoot man waved.

This happened right after Enkrid had asked for the mayor’s house and revealed his identity.

He looked at the overly enthusiastic man greeting him.

A scarred, one-eyed, well-trained body—definitely someone who knew how to fight.

Judging by the slight imbalance in his posture, Enkrid noted he was right-handed and used a very heavy weapon.

His hair was cut above the ears, but the top was grown out a bit.

His face? Harsh. Covered in several scars.

Not familiar—but recognizable.

But no matter how hard he tried, Enkrid couldn’t recall the name.

How many days had he repeated since seeing this man’s face?

Even with exceptional memory, no one could remember everything.

The mere fact that the face felt vaguely familiar was already impressive.

He must’ve seen the man during one of those repeated days. The impression from back then lingered.

“It’s been a while. You’re... uh...”

As Enkrid trailed off, the man spoke.

“Deutsch Pullman.”

The man smiled like it was only natural for Enkrid not to remember his name.

This was the city where that crazy architect once lived—the one who wanted to name the wall after Enkrid.

Why name the wall after him?

Because Enkrid had shattered the Nol colony the cultists built, reliving the same day again and again.

They really had named the wall after him, but not many actually called it “Enkrid’s Wall.”

People preferred the name “Wailing of the Nols.”

Enkrid thought that was a more appropriate name too.

This pioneer city had since been renamed Fellheim, after a term used to describe the region.

Back in mythic times, it was said a fire-breathing divine beast lived here.

Fellheim meant “City of Fire.”

It sounded like this was where the divine beast protecting Naurillia was born, but legends passed down by word of mouth could sound like truth if the storyteller insisted. So, nothing was certain.

Still, if people believed it, it would become their truth.

Everyone now called the place Fellheim without hesitation.

Located on the northern edge of the Border Guard, if one traveled far east from here, they’d reach the Pen-Hanil mountain range. Off in the distant north, the massive Gigant Mountains were visible.

The Gigant Mountains were the dividing line between the Empire to the north and the central kingdoms—huge, majestic peaks.

In other words, the north was thoroughly blocked off.

In front of Fellheim’s western gate was a small plot of farmland, and the city sustained itself by hunting animals, monsters, and beasts from forests to the east and north—then selling the byproducts.

Naturally, it was a royal direct territory.

It also bordered Count Molsen’s land in the past, so it neighbored Enkrid’s domain.

“I remember you were the Guard Captain—so you became the mayor?”

Enkrid pulled from memory, and the man replied with a laugh.

Even a scary face could look nice when smiling earnestly. Deutsch Pullman’s face was like that now.

“Yes, it happened that way.”

The man was now the highest authority in Fellheim, recognized by the kingdom.

Yet his demeanor remained courteous.

Was it because of Enkrid’s reputation? That played a part. But more than that, the memory of what Enkrid did here—destroying the Nol colony—still lingered in the city.

Especially for Deutsch Pullman.

“Please, enjoy!”

Deutsch led the group into the drawing room.

As a maid shyly glanced at Enkrid and set down tea and refreshments, Enkrid asked,

“I have a question. Did anyone from the Holy Nation pass through here?”

Deutsch paused to recall, then answered.

“They did, but left right away.”

“Yeah? Any idea where they went?”

Deutsch replied promptly to his hero and benefactor.

“No, I don’t. But something was strange.”

“Strange?”

“There were three people stronger than me.”

Is that really a big deal?

He thought it but just barely kept it to himself—until someone else said it aloud.

“Is that really a big deal?”

Enkrid had hidden the thought. Shinar didn’t bother.

It could’ve sounded like an insult—implying Deutsch wasn’t strong at all. But seeing the face of a fairy, Deutsch didn’t dare snap back.

Much less when she traveled with Enkrid.

“Brother, the world is a wide place,” Audin added.

Only then did Enkrid recalibrate his judgment.

‘My bad.’

He wasn’t like Audin or Shinar, who were born exceptional. He’d clawed his way up from the bottom, and he concluded: Deutsch Pullman’s current ability wasn’t average.

It’s just that being surrounded by monsters all the time had momentarily warped his standards.

Even if Deutsch wasn’t cut out to be a knight order squire, he was still decent in his own right.

“Three, huh?”

Enkrid gave the proper reaction and answer.

Deutsch, torn between embarrassment and defensiveness, immediately nodded.

“Yes. One of them seemed really angry, though they didn’t say a word. The atmosphere was, how should I put it...”

“How should you put it?”

Even as a knight, Enkrid remained a good listener. He prompted Deutsch along.

He even nodded to show it was okay to say whatever came to mind.

A gesture that gave the reassurance: say whatever nonsense you like, it’s fine.

Encouraged by Enkrid’s openness, Deutsch began to speak.

“Like someone going to scold a child who did something wrong? That sort of mood. Anyway, it ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) just felt odd to me.”

Deutsch Pullman had worked as a mercenary for quite a while. Which meant he’d survived a long time with a blade. And that often meant one thing—his instincts were sharper than his sword.

Either that, or he was simply that skilled.

In Deutsch’s case, it was the former.

He now sat as the city’s mayor.

You couldn’t seize that seat from Guard Captain without keen instincts.

In short, Deutsch Pullman was a perceptive mercenary.

So, the mood he sensed might’ve been more accurate than expected.

And since he held no ill will toward Enkrid and seemed sincerely friendly, he had no reason to lie.

His instincts said the same. Deutsch Pullman’s eyes were clear.

From here, Enkrid had another question.

Even if the kidnapper was some abduction expert—

‘Still weird. Really.’

He didn’t know how, but whoever it was had not only kidnapped the Saintess but somehow gained her miraculous cooperation—allowing them to flee more easily.

And yet, something still felt off.

“Why kidnap her?”

And with that came another question.

There was no reason to kidnap the Saintess.