A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Esther saw blue eyes that resembled her own.

If some other guy had done such a thing, not only his eyes but other parts might have been plucked out; but if it was this man, it was acceptable.

One could tell just by looking into his eyes.

True to his words, he harbored no ulterior motive beyond regaining his body heat.

For in those eyes, there was only pure sincerity.

Above all, she remembered that he had asked to be held before he fainted.

“Alright.”

Esther spoke as she checked her own condition.

The flow of magical energy? No problem.

What had become of the curse that chilled her bones?

The excessive borrowing of a spell had imbued her with the icy touch of Del Gratcher, the master of permafrost, yet it had washed away as if cleansed.

Warmth now permeated her body.

“I’m fine now.”

Esther left the bed, picked up the robe that was placed on the chair right beside her, and put it on.

Enkrid saw blue dawn light streaming in through the window, illuminating her back.

As she draped the robe over herself, part of her bare skin was revealed.

The back of her fair skin gleamed as the soft rustle of the robe being donned filled the air, and the familiar scent of her skin—one he had savored for days—caressed his nostrils.

It evoked the fragrance of a night spent falling asleep under the stars, with a pleasantly cool breeze kissing one’s skin.

If one were to create a perfume from Esther’s natural scent, it would be fitting to name it “Night Sky.”

Esther shivered for a moment.

Though she claimed to be better now, stepping away from that warm embrace revealed a shiver-inducing chill in the air.

She saw Enkrid on the bed, shirtless. His bare chest truly exuded warmth.

In her dream, Esther had lain in a flower garden, enveloped by a pleasant warmth.

The warmth, the scent—everything was immensely delightful.

“...It smells of sunlight.”

The aroma of sunlight, reminiscent of the fragrance of well-dried cloth, lingered at the tip of her nose.

Seeing Enkrid watching her from the bed, Esther said,

“Cherish your eyes.”

“Of course.”

It was said in a light-hearted manner.

The mere recollection of that dream stirred frivolous thoughts, and Esther transformed into a leopard.

Her robe clung to her skin and turned into fur, and though her blue eyes remained unchanged, her body shrank into the form of a four-legged beast.

“Why?”

Enkrid asked.

The leopard nodded, indicating its intention to go ahead, and stepped outside.

Enkrid gazed silently before shrugging, as Lua Gharne—resting on the adjacent bed—spoke with his cheeks puffed out.

At that moment, his cheek puffing resembled a smile.

Now, one could readily distinguish it from Frokk’s own cheek puffing.

“It’s embarrassing,” Lua Gharne said, still with his cheeks puffed.

“Who?”

“Esther.”

Witch Esther, known as Black Flower—the proprietor of that grotesque hobby of plucking the eyes of anyone who dares to gaze upon her body.

Could someone like Esther really be embarrassed? Enkrid sensed none of it.

“Those who judge solely by appearances have no inkling of the impact my actions impart. Tsk. You, however, are a sinner.”

Lua Gharne repeated this while continuously puffing his cheeks, as if amused solely by his own words.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that that’s how it is. It’s fascinating to wonder what will happen next. Don’t you worry. Frokk attaches no special meaning to physical love. If I ever desire offspring, I’ll simply find a suitable male Frokk.”

“What did I say to provoke such remarks?”

“I’m just saying that that’s how it is.”

Lua Gharne repeated his words. Meanwhile, Enkrid lingered in the city for one more day.

Even the gatherings of the heretics had vanished as if washed away in an instant.

It was only natural—given that at every meeting one of the Frokk would go berserk.

With the criminal guild gone, a few loudmouths appeared, insisting on collecting protection fees; yet the local lord unceremoniously seized and flogged them.

“Ugh! Stop, stop! I will work diligently!”

The victim’s screams echoed throughout the city like a haunting background score.

Lord Louis’s policy was clear.

Having reorganized his troops, he declared that anyone who disobeyed thereafter would be beaten.

Enkrid was not meant to get involved in this.

‘They’ll manage just fine on their own.’

It was now a matter beyond his control.

Within the mansion there were some jewels that had been gathered by vampires and bureaucrats.

The ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) lord had collected them all.

On his way out, Enkrid caught sight of the jewel box.

“Please, accept it.”

It was only natural to receive payment for one’s work. Having taken on the commission, he was entitled to a fee.

However, there was no law dictating that the compensation had to be in jewels and Krona.

Enkrid knew that this lord would face countless waves of challenges ahead.

Overcoming the tide of those waves would demand an abundance of resources.

Though the box in his hand was merely his fee, for the lord and the city it might well serve as their meal for tomorrow.

Seeing that clearly, he could not accept it—he considered the payment already made.

“It’s already been paid.”

“But I must accept at least this, to ease my conscience.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fitting to use it for rebuilding the city?”

Both arguments held truth. The lord had hastily assembled the box, not even bothering to arrange its contents neatly; valuable items were tossed inside haphazardly.

“I told you, I’ve already been paid.”

Enkrid reiterated, remembering that just last night Delma had come and said,

“Thank you.”

Those were his words.

Enkrid felt that the value contained in that simple gratitude far exceeded that of the box.

And it wasn’t only Delma who had come.

Everyone who knew of his deeds had sought him out with similar words.

“Thank you for saving my child.”

Even the innkeeper—who had rescued and raised a child untouched by blood—expressed his thanks.

“Thank you! If I ever build a boat, you’ll be the first aboard!”

Even Audin, though typically reserved, returned the thanks in kind.

“Th-thank you.”

A certain child’s mother also conveyed those words.

And now even the lord bowed his head and said,

“I sincerely thank you, sir. Should the day come when you need my assistance, I will offer even the slightest help—even if it costs me my life.”

One could tell, even without further words, that his gratitude was genuine.

Even if with time that sincerity were to fade, it would not matter.

Conversely, perhaps as time passed the lord might wish to express his thanks even more resolutely.

All of that would only become clear by living through tomorrow, and the next day, and yet the day after.

After listening to all these words, Enkrid walked out of the city.

He stepped out to serve at the cross guard, receiving anxious and chilling glances along the way.

Though not every look was filled with goodwill, Enkrid was quite content with it all.

After all, this city would still greet the dawn tomorrow.

And that was truly satisfying.

***

Later, according to Esther, she had slain one of the apostles.

And this act set the heretics all over the continent into a frenzy.

They began scheming in a most peculiar manner,

Something that neither Enkrid nor Kraiss had anticipated.

***

“A revelation has been bestowed; this is the task the god has given me.”

Overdeer faced the archbishop who had ultimately betrayed and exploited the god.

Among the holy knights guarding her, two had been so thoroughly brainwashed that they ultimately blocked his advance.

He promptly knocked them both down.

“Sir Overdeer.”

The archbishop was an aging woman. She wore a deeply sorrowful expression.

With the corners of her eyes drooping, she spoke as if in great distress.

“Why are you doing this? If you stand against the order, what do you have to gain—such that you would sacrifice all the honor you’ve built as a holy knight?”

She expounded on Overdeer’s honor; though, upon closer consideration, she was not merely speaking of honor.

“Is it true that you have nothing worth protecting? Is that so?”

She reiterated, conveying just that.

Must you forsake a lifetime of honor to do what must be done? Must you simply let rot prevail? Can you not, as one of the established order, merely stand aside and watch?

“Ah.”

That could not be allowed, even if it meant the obstinacy of an old man.

I could no longer tolerate watching the foundation I built rot and crumble.

“A revelation.”

So he replied.

With her neck choked in his grasp, the archbishop closed her eyes.

“May all who have betrayed me be cursed.”

Even as she was dying, the archbishop smiled slyly. What a pitiful human she was. Her neck twisted suddenly and her tongue protruded.

It was an immediate execution, affording her no time to utter a spell.

“Phew.”

Overdeer exhaled in relief, as if having climbed over a great obstacle.

It was a dilapidated, old mansion—a place that could well be called a ruin.

Here, the archbishop had tormented countless people with spells akin to voodoo.

She possessed the power to control anyone who had spent time with her—even from afar.

She termed the ability “asceticism,” whereas Overdeer insisted on calling it “torture.”

It compelled her, against her will, to have her body lashed with a whip.

It even kept her from sleeping.

And deprived her of food.

It was an ability that enforced the self-imposed asceticism she once pursued voluntarily as training.

That was utterly absurd—no pure sacred incantation could possibly produce such an effect.

It resembled a curse, a fusion of Western shamanism and magic.

The problem, however, was that among those managed by the archbishop was Overdeer’s wife, Rona.

This was the very reason she had, while speaking of honor, insinuated that such behavior would be unacceptable.

The moment the order decided to expose the corruption, they became aware that a threat loomed against my wife, Rona.

It was dire.

Thus, a new person was required—someone to act in his stead.

Someone who could carry out the work while diverting the archbishop’s gaze.

“Is it over now?”

The man asked. His stature matched the moniker “Bear Beastman.” The sacred power he bore exceeded even that of Overdeer, and undoubtedly, no one in the order could compare.

“It is not the end but the beginning.”

“Nonetheless, my duty here is complete, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. Now, we must attend to other matters.”

“Do you have any doubts?”

Audin suddenly asked, for he was not only imposing in appearance but also quite shrewd.

Overdeer discerned the intent behind the question and replied,

“Are you suggesting that in following the revelation, the work has been too easy?”

He too had sensed it—the work had proceeded too smoothly.

The archbishop had revealed herself without much difficulty, and the escorting knights were not particularly meticulous.

Even though Audin was quite capable, this was indeed easy.

“Yes, indeed. You, old brother who delights in boasting about your wife.”

Throughout their time together, having extolled the virtues of his wife, he had quickly acquired that nickname. Overdeer took it as a compliment.

He merely answered the insinuation that he harbored no doubts—that everything had come too easily.

“It was what had to be done. Even if someone had orchestrated it, it was inevitable.”

If left unchecked, my true identity would be exposed, and my wife would perish after such ascetic torment.

Even if it risked losing her, it was a duty that had to be carried out.

This was a matter of safeguarding the realm I had built.

Still, the thought of losing my wife was utterly unbearable.

That is why I was profoundly grateful for the appearance of Audin.

“May the Lord guide us.”

While Overdeer silently prayed, Audin nodded.

From mid-task onward, assistance emerged from the shadows. Although it felt as though this help was not given out of genuine goodwill, there was nothing he could do about it.

“I’ll be on my way now. Farewell.”

“I won’t go far.”

Their brief companionship ended. Audin turned away, and his instincts proved accurate—for just before he returned to the border guard, trouble erupted.

***

“Who is truly following the word of God? Who is right? Is the holy knight who killed that archbishop righteous? If you cannot discern right from wrong, then do not meddle. I shall personally chastise them to establish the will of God!”

Some of the priests who revered the deity of abundance, some who worshipped the god of war, some who venerated the god of the heavens—and even a contingent of the holy knights—banded together.

They declared a crusade.

“It all began with that monastery—betraying the order and using the saintess solely for its own profit.”

An army proclaiming a crusade gathered, its ranks laced with the intrigues of the heretics.

They boldly incited conflict right where the holy knights resided.

Several apostles of the heretics began battling the holy knights.

Because of this, the holy knight order could not take part in the crusade.

It was not a time to take sides; one must immediately defend the territory one holds.

Every action serves an interest, yet the heretics’ objective remained vague.

Yet when you think about it, instigating a crusade was beneficial for them.

It meant that the Holy Nation was effectively feasting on its own flesh.

“Damn those heretics; I will exterminate them from this land.”

In response to the appearance of the apostles, the Order of Justice and the Heretics Extermination Clergy mobilized.

Meanwhile, a rumor spread that a holy knight from within the clergy had been killed.

Rumors abounded that the apostle of the demonic sacred battleground had been responsible.

Because of this incident, neither clerical faction could muster a clear stance on the crusade or intervene.

The Holy Nation—a country where the order was central, comprising three cities—soon descended into chaos.

Amidst this turmoil, Myl, one of the seven apostles of abundance who had declared his intent to become the new pope by proclaiming a crusade, finally marched upon the monastery that I had targeted.

The newly formed sacred army dispensed indulgences, and it was proclaimed that within its ranks there were two holy knights.

At this rate, a new order, led by Myl, was truly about to be born.

“We worship the Grey God.”

They boldly declared that their colorless light was divine. They were utterly insane bastards.

They had even created a god from nothing, thereby founding an entirely new religion.

Even within the order, factions that subtly emanated a grey aura had banded together—and that had become a reality.

Moreover, since those very individuals were part of the established power within the order, the situation escalated.

“These bastards have all gone mad.”

Overdeer, unable to stand it any longer, organized an army and set it into motion.

Noah, who led the monastery, chose to hoard himself within its fortress-like walls—after all, he couldn’t allow everyone to perish quietly.

Myl marched toward Noah’s monastery, gathering an army as the days passed; he even dubbed his force the Grey Sacred Army.

“I shall burn your flesh and make it an altar, dedicated to the Grey God.”

And he proclaimed that the monastery would not be granted pardon.

By now, it had become a religion entirely distinct from that of the god of abundance, and it seemed like a runaway carriage hurtling down a downhill slope at ever-increasing speed.

There was nothing anyone could do to stop it.