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A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 662: A Usual Day · Oct 14, 2026

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Chapter List (976)

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651 Chapter 649: How to Break Limits 2026-10-14
652 Chapter 650: Even If Talent Speaks of Limits, the Heart Does Not 2026-10-14
653 Chapter 651: The Apostle and Enlightenment 2026-10-14
654 Chapter 652: Three, Spells, and Even a Wraith 2026-10-14
655 Chapter 653: So I Grasped the Sword, and So I Sang 2026-10-14
656 Chapter 654: Sparring and the Real Thing 2026-10-14
657 Chapter 655: How Do You Feel? 2026-10-14
658 Chapter 656: So This Really Isn’t a Joke 2026-10-14
659 Chapter 657: I Saw the Truth 2026-10-14
660 Chapter 658: Sermon 2026-10-14
661 Chapter 659: The Knight Order I Longed and Dreamed For 2026-10-14
662 Chapter 660: The Ragged Saint 2026-10-14
663 Chapter 661: Flowing Sword 2026-10-14
664 Chapter 662: A Usual Day 2026-10-14
665 Chapter 663: Price and Gift 2026-10-14
666 Chapter 664: You’re Back, You Crazy Fairy 2026-10-14
667 Chapter 665: Red-Cheeked Esther 2026-10-14
668 Chapter 666: The Madman with the Hammer 2026-10-14
669 Chapter 667: Penna Is Enough 2026-10-14
670 Chapter 668: Interesting 2026-10-14
671 Chapter 669: The Irresistible Commander 2026-10-14
672 Chapter 670: Grida, the Woman You Never Forget 2026-10-14
673 Chapter 671: Not at Night 2026-10-14
674 Chapter 672: You Brought Another Woman? 2026-10-14
675 Chapter 673: With a Similar Look 2026-10-14
676 Chapter 674: The Three Irons 2026-10-14
677 Chapter 675: Stagnant Water 2026-10-14
678 Chapter 676: Interpreter Shinar 2026-10-14
679 Chapter 677: What Will I Leave Behind 2026-10-14
680 Chapter 678: Blessings and Respect 2026-10-14
681 Chapter 679: Enkrid Knows How to Lose 2026-10-14
682 Chapter 680: A Night of Realization and Killing Intent 2026-10-14
683 Chapter 681: Playing with Fire 2026-10-14
684 Chapter 682: I Don’t Shy Away from Any Kind of Fight 2026-10-14
685 Chapter 683: Spring Sunlight and Mist 2026-10-14
686 Chapter 684: Amber Dress 2026-10-14
687 Chapter 685: Remede Omnia 2026-10-14
688 Chapter 686: A Bit of a Detour 2026-10-14
689 Chapter 687: Swordsmanship of Calculation 2026-10-14
690 Chapter 688: A Familiar Face 2026-10-14
691 Chapter 689: Twin-Blade Welcome 2026-10-14
692 Chapter 690: Between Familiarity and Strangeness 2026-10-14
693 Chapter 691: I Refuse 2026-10-14
694 Chapter 692: Blind Spots, Errors, and Contradictions 2026-10-14
695 Chapter 693: Excellent 2026-10-14
696 Chapter 694: React 2026-10-14
697 Chapter 695: Enkrid Let a Woman Into His Room 2026-10-14
698 Chapter 696: Already Knew, or Intended 2026-10-14
699 Chapter 697: False Strike 2026-10-14
700 Chapter 698: Leaving Nothing to Chance 2026-10-14

Enkrid knew that swinging his sword a few times wouldn’t suddenly lead to some profound awakening.

So he would take it one step at a time.

For now, that meant giving it a name.

“Let’s call it Flow.”

Its foundation would be built on Oara’s Connecting Sword.

And eventually...

“In every moment, let it come naturally.”

The meaning: like a river that flows without ceasing, tirelessly moving onward.

Its execution: to swing the sword as naturally as breathing.

Then what about the training method?

That’s where Enkrid stalled.

As always, he hit the limits of his talent—yet that, too, made him happy.

The madman named Enkrid was someone who felt joy in being able to surpass even invisible walls.

Now the wall was visible and within reach.

And this was only the beginning.

He had already glimpsed what lay beyond—it was the path all his squadmates had advanced ahead on.

Not a change in quantity, but in quality.

That realization sent a shiver down his spine and a thrilling jolt to his heart.

It reached his head and exploded into uncontainable exhilaration.

“Ah.”

He was so excited it drove him mad.

Of course, it wasn’t as if a clear path had suddenly appeared.

All he could do for now was swing his sword.

So Enkrid did exactly that.

Clumsily, doggedly, he swung his sword.

With only one thing he knew how to do, he did that one thing—and yet a smile never left his face.

Like a child in love for the first time, he just kept swinging his sword.

“...Is he insane or something?” the Ragged Saint muttered worriedly from the side.

Why was he suddenly talking to himself, then going out and swinging his sword while grinning?

Seriously—what was that?

It was terrifying.

It was fair to ask that sort of thing.

Enkrid didn’t even hear the muttering, but everyone else nodded in agreement.

“Of course he’s insane. That’s just how he is,” said Rem.

“He’ll snap out of it. No need to panic too much.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a phase,” Audin added.

Hearing Rem, Ragna, and Audin respond like that, the Ragged Saint snorted.

He couldn’t help himself—he had to say it to them too.

“You’re the last ones who should be saying that.”

Enkrid had only met him recently, but the Ragged Saint had seen plenty of Rem and Ragna.

He’d even watched his adoptive son change.

The ones who used to talk about killing each other were now working together like nothing had happened.

It was ridiculous.

Why were they like this?

He knew why.

Because of that lunatic up front, swinging a sword with a goofy smile.

“Right... he’s the center of it all.”

Everything revolved around that one person.

The knight order, the city, the people.

Was it impressive?

Yes, it was.

With a lunatic like that at the center, it made sense that others like these would gather around him.

As he stared at the sword-swinging madman, a flurry of thoughts stirred in the Ragged Saint’s mind.

Regret, remorse... they all blended in.

What if he’d had someone like that in his youth?

Someone who could even bend Overdeer and himself?

What if it had been someone everyone could acknowledge?

He had known one such person—someone whose talent seemed blessed by the gods.

His words carried weight, and his body radiated divine power and unmatched skill.

Sometimes he felt like a younger brother.

Sometimes, an older brother.

He had the authority to lead and the warmth to care for others.

Charisma, leadership, strength—he had it all.

And as great as his abilities were, his ambitions were just as large.

If they’d protected him when he became pope... would anything have changed?

The Ragged Saint already knew the answer.

“Nothing would’ve changed.”

That was the tragedy.

It was Legion that drove him away, and Legion that made him defect.

The greatest genius Legion ever produced lost his family, his lover, and left for the Demon Realm, dreaming of revenge.

He didn’t cry blood.

He didn’t scream.

He simply abandoned everything and walked away.

“If this is the will of the gods, then I will reject it.”

That was the last thing he said.

“He was a fool.”

He was too exceptional to be pope.

Too bright.

Naturally, people grew jealous.

They wanted to drag him down.

After that incident, Overdeer the Holy Knight erased his own opinions and swore to obey whatever the next pope wanted.

Now that the pain in his heart had been stirred, the Ragged Saint had another realization.

“Divine power wasn’t the important part. He should’ve known how to embrace others. He should’ve been someone who could sacrifice for them.”

A person acknowledged by all must be that kind of person.

The Holy Knights could fight.

Others could wield divine power.

But the one at the top shouldn’t be recognized for skill, but for character.

“Hah...”

The Ragged Saint knew himself well.

He wasn’t suited to be pope.

He didn’t want the responsibility.

He’d always preferred saving the sick child right in front of him.

The Holy City needed someone with a different kind of vessel.

And Border Guard... it needed someone like that.

Someone who didn’t press down on people from above, didn’t dominate them, didn’t rule over them.

“He’s no king.”

He simply had a different purpose.

“Didn’t he say his dream was to be a knight?” he asked, directing the question vaguely at Audin.

He already knew the answer—he’d heard it before.

Specifically, the kind of knight you’d hear about in a bard’s song.

He couldn’t laugh at that.

Not because of Enkrid’s current state, but because he’d once lived a similar dream.

Watching him walk the city, he could tell.

Enkrid wielded his sword to protect what stood behind him.

That was all.

And with just that—he’d made it this far.

That made him a madman.

“What an absurd bastard.”

With that simple realization, the Ragged Saint dropped to his knees and began to pray.

He clasped his hands and sought his lord, repenting past regrets and wishing for light to shine upon this lunatic’s future.

“...You do realize praying doesn’t undo what you said, right?”

Right beside him, Rem rested a hand on his axe.

Didn’t this old man just cross a line?

Didn’t he just lump them all together with that madman?

Technically, he’d said “you’re the last ones who should say that”, but Rem was perceptive.

To him, that meant “you’re all the same kind of lunatics.”

And that sounded an awful lot like a challenge.

Westerners might revere their elders, but that old man wasn’t from the West—so it didn’t matter.

“Still, it wasn’t wrong, was it, my barbarian brother?” Audin tried to calm things down.

“A stray cat always takes the wildcat’s side.”

Rem did more than gesture at his axe—he actually laid his hand on it.

His downward weapon responded to the warmth of his palm.

He didn’t intend to actually use it, but the threat was real.

“You are the last ones who should say anything,” Ragna added, ending the fight with one sentence.

Of course, he’d conveniently left himself out of the insult.

“You blind bastard with no sense of direction—you’re included too, you lazy shit!”

Rem pulled his axe and swung.

He drove it straight down with full wrist force—like the weapon had grown out of his arm.

Ragna calmly drew his sword to block, pulling his greatsword as if it were a dagger, stopping Rem’s blade with only a partially drawn edge.

Clang!

Sparks flew as fire flickered in the eyes of two wild beasts.

“My wild mad brothers, truly,” Audin muttered as he shoved between them.

Golden light formed on his fist like a clump of sacred sand.

Rem immediately jumped away.

Ragna raised his sword vertically like a shield and backed off.

The three of them began circling and clashing atop the battered training yard.

Meanwhile, Enkrid was off to the side, muttering to himself and swinging his sword.

Watching him, Rophod and Pell shook their heads—then locked eyes and immediately started fighting.

“What are you looking at?”

“Not your rotten eyeballs, that’s for sure.”

“Let’s take one out then. I think you can spare it.”

That was the kind of conversation they were having.

Lua Gharne arrived late, saw the chaos, and grabbed Teresa, clearly delighted.

“Hey, you half-blood giant—if your skills have improved, want to have some fun?”

“Not a bad offer, Sister.”

Teresa’s rough, resonant voice now carried even more impact.

It was a voice that stirred the soul.

And with the Ragged Saint kneeling in prayer off to one side, draped in jewels...

...it was just another ordinary day.

A few more days passed.

It was the day after Rophod passed the basic training instructor role to a squire named Clemen.

“Am I really doing it?” she asked.

“Yes. You are,” he said.

Clemen was officially a squire of the Mad Knights.

Enkrid had trained her a few times and knew well how fierce she could be.

And he liked that fire.

In any case, Rophod and Pell had both cleared their schedules at Enkrid’s request.

A day of promise, perhaps.

Enkrid woke early and took his time warming up.

“Good.”

Spring was fully here, but the early morning was still cold.

That slight chill felt just right.

He liked the feeling of moving just enough to start sweating.

He liked the heat building in his body.

Audin had come out before dawn and began training beside him using the Isolation Technique.

Soon after sunrise, Rophod and Pell joined them.

Enkrid didn’t believe brute force could make impossible things happen.

Instead, he trained steadily, methodically working through everything he needed to do.

He had built a system and organized the temperaments in his mind.

And now, in front of him stood two people with perfectly opposite dispositions—Rophod and Pell.

Excellent test subjects.

“Don’t you want to be knights?”

It was a question that didn’t really need asking.

Both of them trained to a ridiculous degree every single day.

What else would drive them?

“No point in saying it out loud,” Pell replied first.

Rophod nodded heavily.

“Yes.”

Enkrid had thought about it again and again on his way here.

Could a structured system lead someone down the path to knighthood?

It was time to find out.

He didn’t know it, but this was a path that other military groups had once walked.

Considering the impact knights had on the battlefield, it would’ve been strange not to try.

Of course, Naurillia had wanted to do the same—but Count Molsen, cultists, and bandits had gotten in the way, tangling everything before they could even begin.

But lately, things felt different.

Not just catching a breath—but as if a brief peace had arrived.

“Maybe we really did wipe out the cultists. The ones acting solo disappeared, and even the number of monsters and beasts dropped,” Kraiss commented while monitoring the continent’s situation.

Then he added:

“If we could live like this, I wouldn’t ask for anything more.”

Kraiss /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ had been born into a world of war and Demon Realm incursions.

To him, this kind of peace felt unfamiliar.

Even though it was peace wrought by the sword—and even though some of it had been achieved by his own hand—he still felt that way.

In such times, investing in training was wise.

Kraiss had seen it coming, which was why he’d doubled down on developing the unit.

Of course, he hadn’t expected even the cultists to be wiped out so cleanly.

In this age, quality mattered more than numbers on the battlefield.

Naturally, training knights became the top priority for every military force.

Rophod and Pell both tensed slightly.

Enkrid, Rem, and Audin gathered around them.

From afar, it almost looked like the two were being enclosed in a ring.

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