A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

The girl who had awakened—called the Saintess—curled up like a cat. But she didn’t lash out or panic. Her posture radiated caution, but her eyes, now open, were calm. She was a composed child.

“Where am I, and who are you? Also, who’s that big guy?”

A quick thinker, this one.

Enkrid answered every question smoothly and without hesitation. The girl, upon hearing his reply, skipped over the parts she didn’t understand and confirmed her grasp by asking follow-up questions.

“So, the Holy Knight came and killed the ones chasing me, meaning I’m not about to be dragged off immediately. But it’s still dangerous.”

Enkrid nodded in response. Then came a comment from the girl that even caught him off guard. It was unexpected.

“Is it alright if we part ways here? I still have something I need to do.”

She wasn’t saying it to immediately run off. Judging by the conversation so far, she clearly understood her situation. That being alone meant the Church would eventually hunt her down.

Enkrid, by then, had also learned who she was. And yet, even with all that knowledge, she said such a thing.

A Highlander. Even if she was one of the mountain people, she must’ve known how hard it would be to escape the Church’s grasp. Of course, if she made it back to her home deep in the mountains and managed to endure there, who knew what might happen. The Church might give up midway—or they might burn down the entire forest just to catch her.

The future was uncertain.

But if they were just talking about the present—

Without exaggeration, the safest place right now was by Enkrid’s side.

And yet, she wanted to leave?

“May I ask what business you still have?”

Enkrid asked out of pure curiosity. Seiki responded right away. By that time, her posture had relaxed a bit. She’d sat down, resting her arms and legs.

“There’s someone who ended up in a bad spot because I escaped. And...”

She trailed off, not as if to tease, but as if debating whether to continue.

“And?”

Enkrid prompted her. A sign that she could keep going.

“I think there might be others still locked up.”

Seiki revealed everything.

“So you’re saying... you want to go back to the place that held you captive?”

“I didn’t understand anything back then, but now I know the structure inside, and I know what’s going on. I don’t know why you saved me, but I can’t just look away and walk off after seeing all that. I’d already decided I’d go back once I’d recovered enough.”

There was no need to ask why. The answer was obvious.

To save people.

The same reason Enkrid had saved Seiki.

“I don’t think that’s wrong.”

Seiki added. Her tone showed a glimmer of stubbornness. At that, Shinar turned her gaze away from Seiki and stared directly at Enkrid.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m admiring the face of my future fiancée.”

That clearly wasn’t the reason.

More likely, it was because what this little brat Seiki had said was so similar to things Shinar herself often said.

Enkrid’s jaw moved ever so slightly.

She was right. It wasn’t wrong. So there was no way he could ignore it.

If Audin had been here, he probably would’ve burst into tears, nodding over and over, saying the girl was right. Wasn’t that exactly why he left—to go bash in the Archbishop’s skull or whatever? To put it more politely, he was out purging the Church.

“Grandpa always told me—whether you live alone or with others, you should always follow what you believe is right.”

Seiki finished her thought. Her words carried no doubt. She believed them, completely and sincerely.

It was the same path Enkrid walked. There was no reason not to help.

“You remember the location, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go together.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

The girl understood the reality of things. She didn’t reject the offer—she answered immediately, as if she’d been waiting.

Shinar, who had been watching silently, finally spoke.

“You seem weak to women. And kids.”

Enkrid looked at Shinar for a moment, then replied,

“I’m definitely not weak to older women.”

“...You bastard.”

Shinar rolled her eyes—a rare expression for her. Enkrid smiled. It was a chilly morning, the temperature having dropped sharply from the late autumn rain.

Enkrid spoke to the coachman.

“Turn the carriage around.”

“Sorry?”

“We’re heading back to the city.”

The coachman didn’t ask why. He just obeyed. As they rode back, Enkrid thought:

He had saved the Saintess. But there was something she hadn’t finished. Would it be difficult? Probably not.

***

“I’m planning to sneak in and get them out.”

As the monastery came into view, Seiki shared part of her plan. It was, in its way, logical and appropriate. Draw attention, rescue the captives, then escape.

Since she had fainted before, Seiki had no idea what Enkrid was capable of. She had lived in the mountains all her life, and during the eight months she’d been out, she had been trapped in the monastery. She didn’t know what knights could do.

Shinar kindly spoke up. She had watched Seiki for a few days now and didn’t dislike her.

“Sneak in? There’s no need for that.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

Seiki had seen the monks’ daily routines while she was captive. They trained their bodies constantly. They were training monsters who worked out for more than three hours every day. There had to be over twenty of them.

She hadn’t seen all of them firsthand, but she’d figured it out by estimating the food supplies and signs of activity.

She was quick-witted. And she wasn’t the type to leap into hopeless fights.

Her original plan had included avoiding those monks altogether. Now, that didn’t matter anymore.

The monastery was near the western border of Naurillia. They’d sent the carriage back halfway, and the group had traveled the rest of the way on foot.

Naturally, Enkrid and Shinar had no problem with the walk, and Seiki, too, was in good shape. So while it was slower than a carriage, they weren’t exactly crawling.

As they walked, Enkrid watched Seiki move—walk, run, react. He began to understand how she had managed to stay on the run for so long.

‘She’s got talent.’

Being a Highlander wasn’t just for show.

When they reached the monastery gate, two surly monks glared at them.

Seiki had no idea what was about to happen. But from Enkrid and the fairy Shinar, she saw complete confidence. So she had chosen to trust them.

And Enkrid boldly walked straight up to the monastery gate. It was a massive wooden door wrapped in iron bands and overgrown with tangled vines, flanked by gray stone walls covered in ivy.

From afar, it looked like a peaceful place where they made wine or something. Most monasteries brewed wine, baked bread, or made soap and jam to sell.

“Who are you? This is Church ground. No entry without invitation.”

One of the monks guarding the gate asked. His thick forearms suggested fists over words.

“Visitors.”

Enkrid replied without stopping. He strode straight toward the two monks.

“You’re just going to walk in?”

Seiki whispered behind him.

The two monks reached out their hands—

But Seiki only heard quick whoosh, whoosh sounds.

Without even a groan, the monks’ eyes rolled back, leaving only the whites, and they collapsed forward.

Enkrid, almost theatrically, bent his left knee slightly and extended both arms, catching the monks’ falling bodies and gently lowering them. Their heads lolled to the side. They were unconscious.

“...What did you just ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) do?”

To Seiki, it was nothing short of mystical.

Shinar, in a slightly cheerful tone—more talkative than usual—explained.

“He struck the uvula and jaw. Both hands, at once.”

To be precise, he’d extended his fingers, used the web between his thumb and index finger to strike the uvula—preventing a scream—

Then twisted his arm and drove his fist upward to the jaw.

Speed aside, the control was artful.

Not even a broken jaw between the two. Just unconscious.

A knight was someone who had surpassed human limits. So to normal eyes, their actions could seem absurd.

And what Enkrid had just done? It was one of those feats.

“Let’s go.”

Enkrid spoke. Even if this place was a rotting monastery, barging in like this was no different from declaring war against the Church. Anyone else would have shaken their head in disbelief. You’re turning the entire Church into your enemy just to save a few people? Does that even make sense?

Enkrid didn’t care about such things in the slightest. Even in the middle of the fighting, Audin’s words had rung clearly in his ears.

“You’ll be hunted for the rest of your life.”

That’s what he had said. And if what Enkrid was doing now meant he’d be hunted—then so be it. If it was the path he believed in, the path he thought was right, he would walk it. That was how he’d always lived.

“You’ve somehow survived all this time, haven’t you?”

Shinar said, as if she were piecing together Enkrid’s past. Seiki merely watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. But even she wasn’t just any ordinary child. Surprised—yes. Again and again. But she didn’t stop there. She did what had to be done.

She guessed where her rescuers might be imprisoned and led the way.

“Who are you!”

“What is this!”

A few more monks rushed out—but it didn’t matter.

“Just visiting.”

Enkrid answered casually, his hands and feet doing the rest. His body may not have been in perfect condition, but it wasn’t enough to hold him back.

He’d picked up a sturdy stick on the way—something to replace his broken sword.

Then, one of the monks swung down with an unusual sword—nearly two hands longer than a standard blade. The strike was fast and sharp.

Enkrid drew his short sword only for that moment, cutting upward.

He pulled the club back with his right hand, drew the sword with his left, and slashed—

Both hands crossing as a flash of light surged upward.

Chiririring!

The sword made by Aitri, as if reflecting the will of its master, sliced the monk’s blade clean in half.

Strength, technique, and the quality of the weapon in his hands—

It was all in harmony.

And that was it.

The monk turned pale.

“I concede.”

He admitted defeat. Everyone bowed their heads. And soon after, they found the ones Seiki had been imprisoned with.

***

“Why did you do it, brother?”

It was a question so simple, not even a confession was needed.

“Do you need an answer from me?”

The Saintess had escaped. He had hidden her. Wasn’t that enough of an answer? That’s what he meant.

“Did you want to be noble all on your own? Are you satisfied now?”

It was his fellow brother who spoke, one who smiled bitterly—someone who had been close. Was this man guilty of a crime? Even if he had power, he couldn’t judge him. He had no right.

There was a punishment. Hot wax dripped into his eyes and ears. Because he had eyes, yet saw nothing; ears, yet heard nothing.

The punished monk’s head had been completely shaved. The monk who had administered the punishment—one of Shilma’s loyal enforcers—mocked him.

“You could’ve just stayed quiet. Tsk.”

The wax was poured into his eyes, and flowed into his ears as well.

“Grrrghhh...”

He didn’t scream. He writhed like an animal on the ground. The pain gnawed at his flesh, but it didn’t tear his mind apart.

Whom should I hold accountable for this?

The monk didn’t think he could blame the man who had inflicted the punishment. He was simply following orders. Then... who was to blame?

The monk decided not to ask that question. This wasn’t a time to assign blame. It was a time to move forward. So he prayed for the strength to keep moving.

Before we speak of sin, please show us a glimpse of salvation.

He needed to believe that change was possible. If even a divine messenger descended, wouldn’t that be enough? He hoped so. Even if that messenger came in fury and slaughtered everyone—

There would be those who learned, who awakened from it.

His eyes turned. Next to a mold-stained stone wall, a woman was crouched. She had been a seamstress—a middle-aged priestess he’d known since childhood.

But she’d never work thread and needle the same again. Tomorrow, both her hands would be cut off.

Thanks to the hot wax, one of her eyes had gone blind. She could now only see half the world.

In a dreamlike daze, someone asked,

“Do you regret it?”

No. I do not.

Even if the entire Church spat on me and cursed my name, leaving that child behind would not have been right.

The monk had let Seiki escape. And in that moment, he had tried to free another child held in the underground cells—but it was hopeless.

Lord, send your messenger.

Not to punish sin, But to bring wisdom to these poor and lost souls.

“Take one step closer and I’ll kill you!”

Amid his prayers, a hand clamped around his throat. He felt a breath behind his neck. The person behind him pulled hard, pressing a short dagger to his skin. The voice was familiar. It was one of Shilma’s loyal dogs—the one who had overseen the punishment.

Huff... huff...

He could feel the man’s breath—laced with confusion and fear.

Through his hazy vision, the monk saw someone standing beyond the cell bars. A shadow entered first, and the lamplight behind him hid his face.

But the light wrapped around him like a halo.

“If you kill me, you’ll be making the Church your enemy!”

The man behind him spoke through gasping breaths.

And the one who came in with the halo opened his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter.”

With those words, the light trailing from his back surged forward.

That’s how it looked to the monk’s eyes.

An arm lifted. The light—just a torch, really—bathed his damaged eye. Part of that light brushed his face.

Then, from behind, hot liquid spilled down his back.

Warmth spread over the monk’s cold body, lying on the damp prison floor.

Between the heat and the light, with fading vision, the monk asked,

“Are you... the messenger of God?”

The messenger answered at once.

“No. My name is Enkrid. I’m from the Border Guard. What I’ve done today—I did of my own will. If someone wants to hold me accountable, I won’t run.”

Even with one eye, the monk could see him clearly.

To the monk, he looked like a boulder—

Unmoving, even as waves crashed or storms raged.

Not a messenger of God.

Just a man who refused to turn away from what he’d done.

A hero. At least to the monk, that’s what he was.

A hero sent by God in place of a messenger.