A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid, after weighing the circumstances—his own current strength, the knight order’s combat capabilities, and everything in between—didn’t consider their situation to be a crisis.

He didn’t know every single individual gathered out front, but even with only a rough idea, his judgment remained the same.

”I heard a Holy Knight joined them. That’s not going to stop us, is it?”

Kraiss had said that.

What remained unpredictable were the forces reportedly arriving from the Holy Nation.

”They’re in chaos, torn by internal factions. Cultist uprisings are breaking out everywhere, monsters are flooding out of the Demon Realm—it’s a total disaster. So we can’t predict how they’ll react.”

That’s what he’d said. Enkrid merely nodded.

Even if all of them turned against him, he wasn’t going to change his decision.

Enkrid had always been that kind of man. Everyone knew it. If he hadn’t been such a madman to begin with, he wouldn’t have made it this far.

So Enkrid made it clear:

Noah lives. The monastery survives. No one inside dies.

That was the assignment he gave himself.

”If we’re friends now, shouldn’t I be trying harder to stop you?”

Noah asked, earnest as ever.

”Ah, I was never one to listen to others,” Enkrid replied.

Noah’s face twisted into one of silent protest, but he had no rebuttal.

”So just watch from now on.”

The words naturally carried Will. Enkrid had spoken his resolve. Noah, at a loss for words, looked up at the hero who had called him a friend.

That hero rose from his seat, his back to the light spilling in from the window.

***

”Assemble.”

Enkrid spoke as he exited the room—though the others were already gathered.

One among them, a warrior of the Cult-Slaying Priests, stepped forward. No one tried to stop him. They’d all been through enough harassment on the road here to be done with interference.

The nameless crusader had a hardened look on his face. He spoke urgently, laced with concern.

”Do you even know who’s out there?”

He didn’t. Enkrid shook his head.

He’d heard bits and pieces, but he hadn’t looked into it in detail. Not really.

What the hell are they thinking, coming here like this?

The crusader was baffled, but he still had to say something.

These people weren’t just called madmen—they were mad.

He had to make them understand the danger. Had to get them to think about their own safety.

Because it wasn’t right for people who had come this far, for the right reasons, to die meaningless deaths.

”There are two Holy Knights—born of the Scales and of Plenty. Both have proven their power.”

The crusader’s voice was as serious and steady as it could be.

Now they’ll understand how dangerous this is, he thought.

Enkrid blinked at him in silence, his expression unreadable. His eyes seemed to ask, So what?

The crusader couldn’t quite interpret the look, but one thing was clear—Enkrid had no intention of backing down.

”Not just knights—these two are elite among Holy Knights.”

He repeated it, asking, Did you come here knowing that?

”So they say?”

Enkrid replied, glancing idly at the crusader’s chest and uniform before speaking to his own order.

His voice was disinterested.

”We already heard. That’s what they’re saying,”

Rem replied. He’d already listened to the crusader’s repeated warnings all the way here—danger this, Holy Knights that.

Rem’s tone was more annoyed than indifferent. Same as when they’d left the Border Guard.

Why annoyed? Not because of the crusader’s nagging.

Just one reason:

Why the hell is this happening in the cold?

Danger? What’s that—something you eat?

His face and body all seemed to scream that sentiment. The crusader’s warnings were useless.

Standing beside him, Ragna paused as if contemplating something, then asked:

”Do I get both of them?”

Holy Knights? If they were saturated with holy power, they’d be fun opponents. Hadn’t that pompous bear Audin said he’d train him? Then this would be the perfect warm-up before the ★ ★ bear came back.

If he cut down those two, it wouldn’t be hard to beat up the bear again when he returned.

A fine training match, Ragna thought. Though no one could read his mind.

”Then I shall show you the spring wind that casts off winter’s chill.”

Shinar muttered something incomprehensible—though she’d actually said it a few times on the way here.

She was talking about showing Enkrid her fairy swordsmanship.

Enkrid had half-dismissed it as a joke.

But just because it sounded like whimsical pixie nonsense didn’t mean Shinar lacked skill.

She had the power to back her words—to carve down that army with her ”spring wind.”

Fairies didn’t concern themselves with human emotions, so they naturally didn’t show fear. Not even for appearance’s sake.

The crusader took a long breath, composing himself.

It felt like talking to a wall. No one seemed to care.

Rophod, Pell, and Teresa just nodded—Ah, so there are Holy Knights out there? Got it. That kind of reaction.

They were even wondering if they’d get a chance to fight them. Maybe they couldn’t win, but it’d be worth trying.

Lua Gharne and Jaxon weren’t much different. Jaxon was already thinking, Should I go kill one first?

Lua Gharne wondered what kind of fight Enkrid would show against them.

Even unspoken, it was all written across their faces.

They had been stained by madness—that’s what made them the Mad Knight Order.

”Did you even hear what I said?”

The crusader snapped, unable to contain himself.

He’d seen their exploits. Heard the names—the Mad Knight Order, the Ironwall Knights.

But their fame was recent.

Whereas the two Holy Knights outside had stood their ground for over twenty years.

One was known as the Guardian of the Nest.

The other had inherited the title of one of the Apostles of Plenty—Azratik the Bone-Breaking Serpent. A walking disaster.

In terms of close-quarters combat, he was arguably the most dangerous man on the continent.

”So... any followers of the God of War out there?”

Enkrid asked calmly.

Now? You’re asking that now?

The crusader paused, then answered, hoping to pull the conversation back on track.

”There aren’t many. Maybe a few out there, but anyone ranked at knight or quasi-knight level would be on the frontlines right now.”

After losing Audin, the God of War’s sect had largely withdrawn from the church’s internal affairs.

They’d lost the most promising heir to lead the next generation. Nothing had been the same since.

So the war-god faithful had retreated from politics. Lost power, lost voice.

They’d become a reclusive order.

The current high priest was just focused on internal discipline, doing what he could with what remained.

Of course, there was no need to go into all that.

And Enkrid wasn’t really interested in the details.

”Holy war?”

”A battle to stop monsters from spilling out of the Demon Realm.”

The crusader’s face darkened.

”A real crusade, if you ask me.”

He meant that those on the frontlines were fighting a true holy war.

Enkrid nodded.

Even in a world like this, some still did their part.

If not, the continent would’ve fallen long ago.

So Enkrid intended to do his part too.

”Az... what was it?”

”Azratik. Azratik!”

the crusader shouted, flustered.

Not all knights were equal.

He muttered to himself,

”Yeah, I agree.”

The gray-haired barbarian beside him nodded casually.

What the hell are these people?

Azratik, the Holy Knight, was no joke. A twenty-year veteran. If his grip caught you, a broken bone would be the best outcome.

Yet none of them seemed the least bit concerned.

”You’re really going to fight?”

”Did we look like we were here for a picnic?”

Enkrid answered flatly, leading the way toward the monastery gate. It was the only reply needed.

The crusader fell silent.

With Enkrid in the lead, he had no choice but to follow.

As they passed through the monastery’s uneven roads, they passed dried vines curling around old columns, a worn statue of the Goddess of Plenty, and small hut-like residences. Everyone in the monastery had come out to watch them walk.

Their gazes were full of hope, fear, and doubt.

More fear than hope, truthfully.

Enkrid said nothing and continued walking.

The crusader wrestled with himself:

Was it right to give these people false hope? Or better to show them the cold truth?

Even Noah had agonized over whether to lie just to reassure the children.

Then one child asked:

”Mister, did you come to protect us?”

A middle-aged priestess placed a gentle hand on the child’s shoulder.

No one could blame the question. Everyone here wanted to ask it.

After stabilizing the monastery, Noah had taken in children orphaned from nearby towns.

”Let’s just share what little food we have and sleep a little more tightly. That’s all it takes, right?”

That had been his thinking.

Whether it was the right choice... that was hard to say now.

Because that choice had led to more than ten children’s corpses.

The crusader couldn’t sit back knowing that.

Power. Authority. Do the innocent really have to die for that? Lord, give me an answer.

But the Father didn’t reply. So he’d come to find his own.

Scripture said: Ask and you shall receive. But only asking inside your heart led nowhere.

So when that child asked that question, half-drenched in fear and hope—

Enkrid placed a hand on the child’s head.

”Well, of course.”

A simple answer.

Did it give them hope?

Maybe. The fear lightened slightly. But the shadow didn’t vanish.

Naturally. Words alone don’t erase that kind of dread.

When they reached the monastery gate, they found that the enemy had reorganized.

Someone sat in a tall chair in the center, others clustered around—clearly core members of the Gray God’s cult.

As Enkrid walked, the crusader at his side kept pace, continuing his anxious warnings.

”Those two Holy Knights aren’t all. They’ve got priests and divine mages. One of them, Noma, can fire over twenty Gray Divine Bursts at once. Each one hits like a giant’s fist. Even for a knight order, charging straight in is suicide. We should—form a strategy or—”

Annoying, maybe—but Enkrid didn’t mind.

He caught sight of the dented breastplate on the crusader’s chest. The dark circles on his face. Clearly, the man hadn’t slept in days.

Word was, he’d nearly died on a food raid just a few days ago.

He walked with a subtle limp, probably from an injury sustained then.

He was hiding the pain, trying to walk normally.

Enkrid had also seen the flicker in his eyes when the child asked that question.

And yet, the crusader still straightened his back and told the child not to worry.

He must know how much influence he has over others.

Noah had told Enkrid which order he belonged to.

The Cult-Slaying Priests. A group whose only mission was to annihilate cults.

And yet, here he was.

Why?

Noah had asked, and the answer was simple:

”I just couldn’t stand by and watch the innocent die. That’s all.”

Enkrid liked this man too.

He believed something was wrong and came here ready to die for it.

Would his death change anything? Probably not. He knew that.

And still, he chose to face it.

That was conviction. That was why Enkrid respected him.

”Nameless, huh? So you’ve got no name?”

Enkrid asked, eyes still on the distant figures.

”Yes. I haven’t received a name yet, brother. But that’s not important right now.”

The word brother warmed Enkrid’s heart.

”True.”

Just as Enkrid spoke, dust kicked up along the monastery wall. A hazy shape formed—like a gray dragonfly.

”Gray Burst Spell!”

Their allied crusader shouted in alarm.

It was a spell that exploded on contact.

An exclusive technique of those awakened to the Gray Divine Radiance.