A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

”Did we overwork him to the point of breaking?”

”Ah, come on. It’s not like we worked him that hard. Why would he snap? And honestly, I’d laugh too if I were in his shoes—can’t say I blame him.”

That was in reference to the man who had just cracked the heads of the Church lackeys—someone who was not only the head of the city, but also the lord of the Border Guard territory and the leader of a knight order.

Kraiss said it while glancing at Abnaier in response to Enkrid’s question.

Neither of them could truly grasp the emotional shift taking place inside Abnaier.

He’d just suddenly started laughing like that—it made him seem unhinged.

After sending Enkrid inside, Kraiss walked over to Abnaier.

He hadn’t said a word to stop his commander. He knew # Nоvеlight # better—Enkrid wasn’t the type to be dissuaded once set on something. Still, an uneasy feeling surged deep in his chest.

It was always like this. No matter the situation, Kraiss was the one who imagined the worst possible outcomes.

“If things continue like this...”

That creeping anxiety made his sharp mind work even faster.

“If the Holy Nation doesn’t resort to outright force, what’s their next move?”

To obstruct, sabotage, and harass—what would they do?

If it were him, he’d do whatever it took to extend influence over this entire region.

His mind ran wild with images of worst-case scenarios.

At the same time, he started planning what they’d need to counter them.

The outline of his strategy began forming. Still, it was only right to get a second opinion.

In situations like this, the presence of someone even more brilliant than oneself was a rare and comforting luxury.

“Abnaier, tell me if this makes sense to you.”

Kraiss launched into his plan—speaking nonstop, not giving Abnaier a chance to interject.

He’d already been preparing for this in anticipation of Enkrid doing something reckless. Some of the contingency plans even included scenarios like a demon suddenly descending and needing to support a full-scale battle.

After all, what if Enkrid ran into a demon and picked a fight?

“Isn’t it possible?”

It wasn’t as if demons from the Demon Realm casually wandered into the continent, but Kraiss still considered it within reason.

That scenario was one of his ten worst nightmares.

“You really do dream in detail, huh?”

His lover, Nurat, had once called him dramatic. Still, he had prepared for it.

Compared to a demonic incursion, conflict with the Church was child’s play.

It was insane, sure—but manageable.

“You’ve already decided everything, so why even ask me?”

Abnaier cut in mid-sentence, but Kraiss shot him a glare.

“Focus, will you? Does this look like someone else’s problem to you? We’re all in this together. If the Church pulls some nonsense and the whole city ends up starving and freezing, then what? You think Azpen’s just going to smile through it?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that...”

Abnaier wanted to defend himself—but what was the point of discussing good faith with a guy who had already made up his mind?

Kraiss scolded him repeatedly before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Anyway, that’s the plan.”

Abnaier listened and roughly committed the plan to memory—but then, he asked the real question that had been weighing on him.

“Don’t you resent him at all?”

Kraiss, despite his anxiety, did what needed to be done. That alone was remarkable. What baffled Abnaier was how he could treat all this so casually.

Who on the continent openly picked a fight with the Church and lived like it was no big deal?

Even the monarchs of the great southern nations wouldn’t dare.

Maybe the emperor of the Empire, but that was different.

Without laughing or frowning, Kraiss answered with a shrug.

“No. I’m used to it. Actually, our knight order’s original name was The Disaster Corps.”

Abnaier thought the name suited them surprisingly well.

Still, calling a knight order “Disaster Corps” would’ve probably made everyone raise their eyebrows when they first heard it—kind of like “Mad Knights” did before.

“We’ll have a war council in a few days. Be sure to attend, Abnaier.”

With that, Kraiss turned on his heel and strode off. He looked like a man buried in to-do lists. There was a trace of irritation in his step, but no resentment—just a sense of duty.

Looking around now, it seemed like the entire city felt the same.

Word of what had happened had spread, and yet... very few people seemed truly worried.

Strangely few.

“He’s back.”

“Guess training starts again tomorrow?”

Some worried about how brutal the returned Iron Wall Knight’s training would be.

“Ugh, leave, leave. Give me leave. I’ll sell my soul for a day off.”

Some soldiers, practically walking corpses, begged for vacation.

“Please spar with me, sir!”

And others eagerly asked the returning hero—now lord of the land and captain of the knight order—for duels.

“You’ve returned, my lord!”

Even the local lord came out to greet him personally.

They said his skills didn’t bloom until old age. That despite being just a quasi-knight, he had grown remarkably strong.

Well, quasi-knights were more common now than before.

All across the continent, hidden strengths were emerging from the shadows.

The world was changing, and at the center of that change stood the Iron Wall Knight.

What was astounding was how even the old lord’s rise in power seemed tied to Enkrid’s presence.

His mere existence provoked those around him.

And anyone who didn’t fold under that pressure moved forward.

In a way, it felt like magic. Like a miracle.

And because that miracle had come true, people were accepting the current situation without question.

“There may be no greater mystery than this.”

It was as if the whole continent had reached the moment where they could no longer hide their power.

Everything Enkrid had done served as a flare—an unmistakable signal that the time to fight had arrived.

“Is this... a new world?”

As the balance of the continent shifted, Abnaier felt it. A breeze tousled his hair.

From Azpen to Naurillia.

From prisoner to the present.

The winds of change were blowing.

And for a brief moment, the future became visible—unpredictable, yes, but undeniably real.

He imagined what might come.

Then he returned to the present and looked forward.

He saw the old lord, moving enthusiastically, requesting a spar.

The lord, of all people, should have had concerns.

Yet he seemed unfazed by the conflict with the Church.

Not everyone in the city might feel the same, but outwardly, they were all aligned.

Not a single person questioned what Enkrid had done.

And there could only be one reason why.

Because everything he’d done so far had proven who he was.

“Ah.”

Abnaier had understood that in his head before—but only now did his heart accept it.

It hadn’t been just a lack of strength that led to his defeat.

He’d known it already, but now, having seen it with his own eyes and felt it for himself, it hit deeper—etched into his soul.

“I lost.”

And yet... there was no despair in that defeat.

No sense of failure.

His heart was racing, and for the first time in a long while, he looked forward to tomorrow.

***

“What did you just say?”

Enkrid had barely returned before gathering Rem, Ragna, and the others to deliver Audin’s message. This kind of thing needed to be shared quickly.

“He said he’d beat each of you senseless when he got back.”

He repeated the gist of what he’d just told them.

“Who’d beat who? That bear-brained rookie’s gonna beat me?”

“If you call him a rookie one more time, I think he really might,” Enkrid replied dryly.

Rem grinned and hefted his axe. So now he was the one getting threatened?

Even if he gave someone a chance to close the distance, odds were they wouldn’t land a single clean hit—especially not someone like Audin.

At Rem’s level, controlling the spacing of a fight was second nature. He wasn’t just a master—he stood beyond even that, at the threshold of true knighthood.

People like that didn’t let their opponents pick the distance. That was a luxury reserved for the lesser.

So Audin? That thick-skinned bear had no chance. He was tough, sure, but nothing more than a punching bag.

“What a load of crap,” Rem muttered again.

He could say that with confidence after sparring with Audin more times than he could count. He knew that guy’s limits.

“I think that bear’s a step above you all,” Shinar interjected calmly.

In truth, no one really knew how a fight would go until they clashed. But some things could still be seen.

In this case, it was the purity and concentration of divine energy within him—a spiritual marker Shinar could detect.

Of course, that didn’t mean she could predict the outcome of a life-or-death fight. But in a sparring match, where people weren’t trying to kill each other?

Rem’s eyebrow twitched.

That was definitely his I hate what I just heard face.

And Shinar wasn’t one to lie—not about something like this.

Enkrid definitely wasn’t either. Especially not when it came to martial skill.

“Seriously?” Rem asked again.

“Seriously,” Enkrid nodded solemnly.

Rem felt it. That this was the truth.

Enkrid was dead serious about anything related to swordsmanship or martial combat.

Beside him, Ragna blinked—his eyes opening just a bit wider than usual.

“Who?” he asked.

“Audin,” Enkrid answered politely.

“Who?” Ragna repeated, in exactly the same tone.

“He said he’d be back within a few months, at most.”

Enkrid spoke calmly. He knew only the ones who needed to hear would understand—and that these people were sharp enough to read between the lines.

They all knew Audin had been hiding something.

Even Pell and Rophod had picked up on it.

The truth was, they’d all sensed it for a while.

Audin would rather die than reveal what he was truly capable of.

That much had been clear during their endless sparring sessions disguised as “training.”

But now? He’d broken through that shell?

Even after hearing Enkrid’s words, Rophod, Pell, and Lua Gharne showed no visible reaction. Neither did Jaxon.

Jaxon wasn’t particularly close to Audin—but he wasn’t hostile toward him either. The two had an unspoken mutual respect.

Rem and Ragna, however, were different.

They’d bullied Audin relentlessly, teased him, tormented him. For a time, they’d even made him play the role of the squad’s youngest.

These days, rumors called Ragna the “blood-crazed rookie,” but before that, Audin had been the squad’s beloved bear cub.

Rem stood up and gripped his axe.

He’d been slacking a bit lately—distracted by his latest toy: a new batch of unit recruits to play with.

That would change now.

“Don’t look for me for a while.”

Fortunately, he had a lead.

He’d recently found traces of something strange in the Pen-Hanil mountains—some kind of amorphous, malevolent spirit.

He had a hunch he could transform it into a usable charm through ritual magic.

He didn’t know how yet, but that was tomorrow’s problem.

Suddenly, though, time felt short.

Originally, he’d intended to figure it out slowly. Not anymore.

In the West, they had a saying for moments like this—“Chasing the sun at dusk.”

It meant trying to bask in sunlight just before it disappeared. Like the phrase “fire at your heels,” it captured that sense of urgency.

They sometimes shortened it to sunset scramble.

In any case, the pressure was on.

“Tell King Eyeball that my unit’s on vacation until further notice!”

Even though he hated the cold and rarely left the barracks in chilly weather, Rem started bundling up—grabbing heatstones and thermal pelts to wrap around himself.

That alone showed his determination.

Enkrid watched and nodded.

“Sparring match later?”

“See you in a few days.”

Anyone else would be crazy to go alone into the Pen-Hanil range—but this was Rem.

“If you die, I’ll make sure your body gets buried properly.”

Enkrid raised a hand as he spoke, to which Rem replied with a crooked smile.

“Been hanging out with religious nuts too long. Now you’re giving eulogies? What’s next, prayers?”

“If you need one, I’ll say one.”

“Ugh, just get lost. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

This from the man who had been lounging indoors, oiling his axe and soaking in firepit heat before Enkrid walked in.

Ragna quietly rose, grabbed his sword, and moved to a corner of the training yard.

Then, he started swinging.

Whip. Swish. Whoosh.

Each slash made a distinctly different sound.

Watching them, Enkrid felt a fire light inside him too.

He wanted to try out the new things he’d discovered on the road.

As always, he slipped right back into his routine the moment he returned—training, refining, and fighting.

Then, a voice chimed in.

“So, is your plan now to bring back a girl every time you leave town? Collecting them? Is it the face?”

It was Esther, now in human form, approaching casually.

“The woes of a man with no fans. It’s not the face. She just needed a place to stay,” Enkrid replied softly, in words she couldn’t fully grasp.

He’d thought he’d forgotten, but Seiki’s words had stayed with him—deep in his heart.

Since arriving at Border Guard, Seiki had adjusted almost instantly. She now followed Shinar around, occasionally inviting others to train with her.

But mostly, she wandered, exploring the mountains and hills like a child seeing a new world.

Were all Highlanders like her? Did they all light up at the sight of new terrain?

Or was she simply special?

He remembered what she’d said on the way to the city:

“I want to live in the mountains forever. Not because I hate people, or don’t want company. Just... that’s the life I want. Hunting, eating good food, sometimes counting stars, bathing in moonlight, sipping wine. That kind of life.”

She’d learned that from her grandfather.

She wanted to repeat that simple rhythm—morning to night, until the day she died.

Could that life be considered meaningful?

Perhaps not in a grand way. But he had no doubt she truly wanted it.

Was it wrong to desire something so humble? Absolutely not.

Do all dreams have to change the world?

No.

Must every dream involve hardship and struggle?

Certainly not.

Should every dream redefine your life?

Of course not.

“I know my hopes might change one day. Grandpa said it too—that I don’t know enough yet, that I haven’t seen enough. Maybe I’m dreaming this just because I’m still naive. But if my dream changes... I’ll think about it then. For now, I just want to live the way I described.”

It was the voice of a girl who loved the moon and stars, the mountains and stones, the waterfalls and brooks.

The freshness of spring, the warmth and heat of summer, the crispness and abundance of autumn, the chill of winter—and the pure white snow falling from the sky.