A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“How about making every monastery responsible for caring for children?”

To put it simply—Overdeer knew how to handle people. He hadn’t wasted his years.

‘In the West, they say old age comes with spice.’

Enkrid thought so as he sat in the monastery’s modest receiving room, drinking the usual cheap tea.

Overdeer didn’t outright demand Noah join the Church or pledge himself to some righteous cause.

“If there are those who fight on the battlefield, shouldn’t there also be those who save and care for children?”

He was merely reaffirming what Noah had already been doing all along. Listening to it, Enkrid could already see what Overdeer was going to say next.

“Come to the Church. Find others like yourself there. Let’s build monasteries like this one. There’ll be no more searching for false saints or saintesses. I’ll make sure of that. But I can’t do it alone. Help me.”

He pushed back his chair with a creak and even knelt down. A fine performance.

‘It really feels like watching an old fox at work.’

That was Enkrid’s impression. One of the most prominent holy knights in the Church, bowing his knee and asking for help from a mere abbot. It wasn’t meant as respect—it was to corner Noah with obligation, to make refusal difficult.

Noah, of course, understood why Overdeer was acting this way.

Even seeing the man kneel, Noah remained composed. He didn’t jump up to stop him or panic. He simply spoke, calm in tone and expression.

“You don’t need to do that.”

From that point, Enkrid knew he was no longer needed there.

Whether he stayed or not, Noah wasn’t the kind to be led astray. He would follow his own path, guided by his beliefs, faith, and inner light.

He had no divine power, but what he had was something forged from conviction.

‘Then what exactly is divine power?’

The question came to him suddenly.

Either way, there was no need to stay longer.

Overdeer, seeing Noah’s unshaken attitude, wasn’t flustered. If anything, he looked pleased.

Enkrid, seeing that, stood up.

“I just remembered something I need to take care of.”

“That so? Wasn’t like I asked you to stay,” Overdeer muttered to the departing Enkrid. ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Not quite a complaint—more like a grumble suggesting, do you not trust me that much? Almost a joke.

“Let’s talk again later, my friend,” Noah said with a gentle smile.

Even when Enkrid had inserted himself earlier, Noah hadn’t refused him. And now that he was leaving, he didn’t object either. It was the attitude of someone who respected another’s will.

“Friend?”

Overdeer blinked.

That one word had completely caught him off guard. His face said it all: Since when are we friends?

“That’s just how it turned out. A friendship kind of formed.”

Enkrid answered casually, and Overdeer asked:

“Didn’t you also say you were friends with the King of Naurillia?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Overdeer made an odd face. Like he’d just bitten into a strange-tasting pie—not bad enough to spit out, but not good either.

Then he said:

“Then what about us? Should we be friends too?”

“No.”

Enkrid answered instantly and walked off without even glancing back.

“Why not?” Overdeer called after him, but Enkrid saw no reason to respond.

“Do you need a friend, Sir Overdeer?” Noah added playfully, his tone light with amusement.

Enkrid stepped outside and surveyed the monastery grounds.

The battle was over, but the night still bustled as people cleaned up the aftermath.

Overdeer had stuck around, perhaps too idle for his age, and had roped Noah into conversation.

From where Enkrid stood, the monastery interior was visible in the pre-dawn light. The moon was veiled by clouds, and only the torches lit here and there offered any illumination.

It might’ve looked the same as last night, but the air and mood were entirely different now.

People bustled with an energy that defied the hour. No wonder—they had survived.

Enkrid read the mood and headed toward the lodging quarters.

The monastery wasn’t large, and couldn’t accommodate everyone. Only a few had been allowed to sleep inside.

The Mad Platoon had rented out one of the larger rooms.

As he approached, the liveliness there surpassed the rest of the monastery.

“You radiant bear bastard! Let me send you to your precious god!”

Rem’s shout proved it.

And then—

“Does our brother wish to greet the Heavenly Father? Let me offer up a prayer to send you on your way!”

The radiant bear, of course, was Audin—still glowing in the night.

“If you can’t dodge, you’re dead,” came Ragna’s voice.

Of course he wouldn’t miss the fun.

Audin’s glow and the commotion had attracted a crowd.

Among the onlookers were the High Priest of the Purge Priests, his followers, and monastery residents watching with anxious eyes.

Perhaps it was for the best that Jaxon and Shinar weren’t present.

Or perhaps they should sigh, seeing such wild energy even after battle.

Enkrid didn’t sigh.

“You’re doing this without me?”

He grumbled instead.

Understandably so—why was he being left out?

He’d just become curious about divine power and hadn’t even gotten a proper bout with Audin yet. Surely it was his turn next?

“I’m the commander.”

Without hesitation, Enkrid inserted himself into the fray. With a ting, he unsheathed his sword and released his Will, slowing time in his perception.

With both feet crossing front and back, he accelerated and slipped between the lethal flurry of attacks.

His mind processed the situation with lightning speed, his Will wrapping around his arms as his blade flew—faster than most could even see.

At that moment, Ragna was slashing diagonally with his sword, and Rem was swinging his axe sideways.

Audin pivoted aside with a smooth twist—right as Enkrid stepped into his former position. Now Enkrid was inside both their attack ranges.

Most would’ve panicked—but Enkrid simply gave silent thanks for Audin’s move and intercepted both weapons.

CLANG!

Despite blocking two weapons, the sound rang only once.

With the silver blade in his right hand, Enkrid parried Ragna’s sword. With Sparks in his left, he intercepted Rem’s axe. He’d struck both at the exact same moment.

He hadn’t blocked with brute force—he’d flowed their momentum into each other to unbalance them. But both recovered effortlessly.

“Hmph. As if I’d fall for that,” Rem scoffed.

Were they fatigued from battle? Of course. But not to the point they couldn’t fight. Believing you can always fight at your peak was naïve.

A true warrior must be ready to fight anytime, anywhere.

If asked why they were sparring, this would be the answer.

Though in truth, it was simply because they felt like it.

“Come then, brother! You’ll see how my hands and feet have changed!” Audin welcomed Enkrid with joy.

“Yeah. I’ve been keeping sharp too.”

Enkrid replied with equal energy. He’d originally come to ask about divine power, but that could wait—right now, it was time to dive into the fray.

***

“They’re... not normal,” the Vice Captain murmured.

“They’re called madmen, aren’t they?”

The High Priest had been thinking the same thing.

“They don’t look normal to me either,” he replied calmly.

Training the body is tough—no one denies that. But some people enjoyed it instinctively.

Seeing it before his eyes, it left an impression.

And more than that—

‘I wouldn’t bet on beating any of them.’

In the Holy Nation, if he raised ten fingers, where would he rank?

Knights know that pure ranking is meaningless. Who wins depends on the battlefield, the situation, their mindset.

Still, gauging one another is instinctive for those who hold swords.

And even if he wasn’t at the top, he knew he was in the upper ten.

Yet none of them seemed easy to handle.

‘Are they all monsters at that level?’

He knew the Holy Nation had hidden talents.

Geniuses, even—one youth had awakened Will before turning twenty. He’d only glimpsed the boy once in the Holy City, but his talent shone like a star.

But now, seeing these warriors rampaging here, he barely remembered that genius.

They were all monsters.

In pure swordplay, the lazy-eyed blond was best. But in explosive force and reflexes, the gray-haired Westerner held his own.

And the others? Just as deadly.

It was hard to say who had the upper hand.

He watched for a long time.

“...Captain?”

The Vice Captain called to him. He looked up, startled.

“What?”

“You’re holding your weapon.”

Only then did the High Priest notice he had gripped the hammer at his waist.

“Hah.”

A laugh slipped out.

What was this?

Why did his body move on its own? Did he want to join them?

He had chosen the path of vengeance—that was why he led the Purge Priests.

But even he had once been a boy. A youth driven by passion.

Watching them—especially Enkrid—made his chest stir.

He wanted to join in.

It reminded him of the days when he trained, learned, and fought.

“They’re having fun, huh,” he muttered.

He said no more. But some of his men seemed to feel the same.

The wild sparring didn’t last much longer.

“Let’s get some sleep and go again after. Gotta sleep when it’s time.”

Frokk stepped in to break it up.

No one had been truly trying to kill. It looked intense, but they hadn’t gone all-out.

The High Priest could see that.

The next morning, some of the Purge Priests came to the Mad Platoon’s quarters.

“May I request a match?”

They had been moved by what Enkrid showed them last night—not just his skill, but his spirit.

They weren’t rude. And Enkrid enjoyed these kinds of interactions.

“Gladly.”

They sparred. Just a few exchanges of blades. The paladin bowed deeply.

“Thank you for the lesson.”

No advice was given. His Will had deflected divine intrusion. The paladin’s specialty was nullified.

“Mind if I try next?” the High Priest asked.

Enkrid nodded.

Truthfully, he’d been itching to cross blades too.

The High Priest drew his weapon—two hammers slightly longer than shortswords.

“The Lord watches over me.”

As he muttered, the hammers glowed with a subtle light.

In the end, there was no decisive winner.

“You planning to kill each other here?” Rem asked, swinging his axe to break them up.

“Captain!” a few priests cried, rushing to the dented breastplate of their commander, who’d been knocked back.

“If we keep going, one of us is going to die,” the High Priest said.

“Pretty sure it won’t be me,” Enkrid replied, a bit awkwardly.

The High Priest only chuckled.

Enkrid spent time with the Purge Priests until they left two days later—mostly sparring, but also listening to advice.

“The cults hate you most right now. You need to be careful. Assassins—or worse—may come.”

They were the ones who knew cultists best on the continent.

So they knew about the Apostle’s death. And that Enkrid was the one who did it.

Overdeer departed first, leaving behind a few paladins. After the rest of the Purge Priests left, Enkrid began preparing to depart as well.

“Training continues once we return to the platoon, brothers!” Audin called with a bright smile.

“Training? Traaaaaining? You suicidal maniac!” Rem growled—grumpily cheerful as always.

Noah stepped in front of Enkrid.

“You’re leaving now?”

“Yeah.”

Noah remembered what they had spoken about a few days ago.

‘There’s no guarantee we’ll win.’

From that, Noah had realized something—there’s no guarantee what he does will help. Even joining the Church might not go as hoped.

It would be more dangerous. More often than not, things wouldn’t go his way.

That’s the reality.

But he would go anyway. And to say that this man had no part in that decision would be a lie.

“You helped me.”

“Yeah.”

“Will I see you again?”

Noah’s tone was softer now. Enkrid just nodded, calm.

“Probably.”

No need to elaborate on the obvious.

As they left the monastery, people bowed.

“You’ve blessed us.”

“May the Lord protect you.”

“We’ll pray for you every morning and night.”

The shadows that had once hung over the monastery were gone, and the words they offered left a warmth in Enkrid’s chest.

Even if winter’s bitter wind cut through his skin—this warmth would remain.

“Damn, it’s cold,” Rem muttered.

But at least it was outside the monastery.

Inside, he’d interacted with people a bit—he even patted a child’s head when thanked.

On the way back, Enkrid finally asked the question that had lingered.

“What is divine power, anyway?”

He directed the question at Audin.

Odd-Eye snorted softly as it trotted alongside Audin’s sturdy warhorse—a gift from Overdeer upon parting.