A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

After sparring with the horde that came rushing in, he ate well and rested thoroughly.

Even as a few more days passed like that, many people came to visit, and most of what they said was pretty similar.

“Training together is really fun—can’t you just stay in Zaun?”

Some expressed their affection without hesitation.

“Thank you. And... I should probably apologize, too.”

Others spoke more seriously.

The former came from the younger ones. The latter, from those a bit older.

To add, both groups were genuinely sincere in their words and actions.

So the ones asking to stay with him kept pestering him, repeatedly asking why he was leaving.

Those offering thanks and apologies bowed their heads and said that, while they weren’t slaves, they’d come if he ever needed them.

Some of them even admitted feeling embarrassed.

“Would I be a good substitute for Riley?”

There were a few who asked sincerely like that.

And then, there were even more unusual proposals.

“Since Riley said she’d become a slave, maybe I should be your wife instead.”

That one came from a woman of the Zaun family—he didn’t even know her name.

Apparently, she was incredibly talented, but what she really wanted was to become a wise mother.

Though, she said her ‘shortcoming was fatal.’

‘Was it that she had a lot of anger issues?’

He heard that even within Zaun, she beat people up whenever they had a falling out, which is why she broke up with all of them.

Despite claiming that her dream was to become a wise mother and a good wife, she also got the nickname ‘Gallows’ for wandering the continent and beheading any man who mistreated women.

He even heard that some promising bounty hunters had come chasing after her to Zaun—some died, some stayed in the hunter village.

Apparently, a few of them died during this last incident.

Enkrid hadn’t said a word, but thanks to all the people gossiping around him, he learned all sorts of things.

“I’ll pass.”

“Tch.”

Still, at least she didn’t cling to him like somebody else.

“If you go to the Empire, there’s gold.”

“If you go to the Empire, there are beautiful women.”

“If you go to the Empire, there are great swords.”

“If you go to the Empire, there are dwarven blacksmiths.”

“If you go /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ to the Empire, there are insanely strong knights.”

“If you go to the Empire...”

Was Schmidt always this talkative?

Back when they met at the Border Guard, hadn’t he acted all heavy and serious?

Enkrid began to wonder if he had romanticized his memory of the guy over time.

Of course, that wasn’t it.

Schmidt was an excellent recruiter—he was simply doing his job to the fullest.

“Does that guy come every day?”

Ragna said that, and it reassured Enkrid that his memory hadn’t been wrong.

“Tiring, right? But I can’t exactly up and leave for the Empire right now. Look at this—I got this injury in battle.”

He’d looked fine when ranting about the Golden Tome, but afterward it turned out he’d taken a deep wound above his thigh.

“A little higher and whew.”

He would’ve lost his manhood for good.

Schmidt shook his head and said,

“Well, at least getting stabbed there by a demon beast’s claw gives me a good reason.”

“What reason?”

Ragna asked. Enkrid already knew the answer, so he stayed silent.

“The Empire might award me a medal, thinking of me as a war hero. I’ll become a national meritorious figure.”

Even though he didn’t fight for the Empire, he still expected it.

Why?

Because a reruiter’s duty is by nature for the sake of the Empire, apparently.

There’s probably some book titled Tales of the Omnipotent Empire that he goes around memorizing.

And there was someone who came to visit even more often than Schmidt. The face Enkrid saw first every morning.

“Are you awake?”

“...Why every day?”

“To thank you. For saving Zaun.”

Bow.

The family head came every morning during training, bowed his head, and left.

Even though he was still recovering and clearly struggled to walk in a straight line.

And morning wasn’t the end of it.

He’d come again when the sun was high in the sky—right around the end of lunch.

“Have you eaten?”

“You’re only blind in one eye, aren’t you? Why are you asking when you can obviously see?”

The head of Zaun had lost one of his eyes.

But since one was still working, surely he could tell the meal had just ended.

“Thank you for saving Zaun.”

And again, he bowed his head.

If that were all, it’d be fine—but Enkrid had to see him again before bed.

“Still awake?”

“Can’t you tell?”

“If it weren’t for you, Zaun would’ve lost many people.”

“Heskal deserves credit too.”

“I haven’t forgotten his contribution. Still, thank you for saving Zaun.”

“My ears are going to grow calluses.”

The family head visited morning, noon, and night, for three straight days.

Even though he’d heard he could no longer wield his sword as before—and should be feeling bitter loss—he never once skipped coming to see Enkrid, drenched in sweat.

“Ragna.”

“Yes?”

“What’s wrong with your father?”

Enkrid asked, even though he already half-knew.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

Maybe Ragna would say something he didn’t know.

Ragna remembered an old habit of her father’s, something she had briefly forgotten.

Tempest Zaun had always acted and spoken with his whole heart since she was a child.

Since he couldn’t express emotion well through words or tone, he conveyed sincerity by repeating his message.

“He’s just grateful.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.”

But still, wasn’t it a bit too much?

So Enkrid stayed in Zaun a bit longer.

“Just give me a week. I’ve still got things to tend to.”

Anne said that too, and Enkrid himself found the stay quite satisfying. It was a fun, enjoyable time.

“They say you learn while teaching.”

He’d had a few similar experiences before, and in Zaun, he was surrounded by talented people.

And they genuinely enjoyed learning from Enkrid.

The match was perfect—it helped both sides.

“There’s no one in Zaun who explains things like Enki.”

There was even a little brat who kept banging their head on the ground, trying to get close to him in a friendly way.

“You explain so well. How about tonight?”

There was also a giant who repeatedly tried to snatch the spot next to Enkrid’s bed.

He later heard that Anaheira enjoyed jokes like that.

Still, it sounded half-serious—and that was probably just his faulty instincts talking.

“If Anaheira says she wants to come with you, will you take her?”

Ragna asked him that once, meaning his instincts might not be so broken after all.

“Well, that’s her choice.”

He didn’t see any reason to say no.

“Shinar will be thrilled. Esther might like it too.”

There was a bite to Ragna’s words.

“Whatever.”

Enkrid brushed off Ragna’s teasing and just swung his sword.

Still, while teaching so many, he naturally began to reflect on the path he had walked.

‘And that’s a good thing.’

The path he had walked.

The paths he hadn’t walked but could now see.

The paths seen by those overflowing with talent.

The paths seen by those with talent but no confidence.

He revisited and re-examined them all.

If you only look forward, you can’t see what’s behind.

So you must sometimes stop and turn around—wisdom lies in that.

Enkrid took that wisdom into himself.

And with it, he learned one more thing.

So during his stay in Zaun, similar events kept occurring, over and over again. It had been like that before, and it was still like that now.

It was one of those twilight days. The sagging sunlight faded away, casting a mystical glow around him.

Personally, it was his favorite time of day. The time between dog and wolf, as they say.

They call it that because when someone approaches from afar, you can’t tell if it’s a dog or a wolf.

The sky wasn’t completely dark or bright—it shone with both bluish and yellowish light at the same time, and the air was just the right amount of cool.

On days like this, things tend to happen. If a man and a woman are together, they might fall in love. Or perhaps some stroke of fortune will visit them. Or maybe, unexpectedly, peace will come to their heart.

A child abandoned by their parents might finally free themselves from that shadow and learn to stand on their own.

A man who’d never been loved—who only knew how to spit out barbed words—might finally awaken to love.

And if he learns that love is not only something to receive, but also something to give—then that man might start a new life.

Everyone has at least one magical moment in life. And sometimes, that single moment is enough to change everything.

Even if it doesn’t change everything, it might still give you a push to take a step toward something that seems absurd and out of reach.

It was during such a twilight, soaked in magic. Dozens of colors streamed from the border between the orange light and the blue.

Somewhere, an insect chirped. And today, fewer people had come to visit than usual.

For the time being, no one else would come either.

The family head’s daily greeting would come much later, and Schmidt had already visited during the day—so he wouldn’t return.

Ragna and Anne had gone to the cliffs behind the basin. They said they were checking out a patch of herbs or possibly poisonous plants that grew wild there.

No visitors. No noise aside from the bugs.

Drunk on that mysterious light, Enkrid explored his inner world.

Perhaps because the most vivid recent memory in his mind was of him—

From atop a large tree to the side, Heskal dropped down with a thud.

“Think in multiple dimensions. People don’t live as just one version of themselves. If you want to truly understand someone, figure out what that person truly wants.”

What he had done—none of it could be understood by looking at it simply.

‘What Heskal wanted was the preservation of Zaun.’

Back when this all started, when Enkrid had asked him about his dreams, Heskal had smiled and dodged the question. Now he understood why.

The Divine Seizure was just a tool.

Yes—Enkrid understood that now.

Enjoying swordsmanship and using that sword to grasp what you want are two different things.

And one thought came to him again—Zaun, and the people here, are different from him.

These people don’t wield their swords to erase the Demon Realm or to obtain anything.

So he wouldn’t force them.

It was the same as when he first met Gridawa, Odinkar, and Magrun. That hadn’t changed.

Did they owe him a life debt? Was that a reason to force them into something they never wanted?

‘I don’t want that.’

As that thought settled in his mind, from the shadow between the houses stretched long by the twilight—suddenly, Oara popped out.

The blue light created by dusk passed through her body. Her steps were light, her face bright.

As she walked gently over, she asked:

“Been doing well?”

And without waiting for a reply, she kept talking.

“Intent-Focused Full Recovery—you’re planning to master all five, right? Even for a knight, most people choose one to specialize in. But you’re doing them all, right? You’re not going to discard a single one.”

Oara—she had left a deep impression on him and died.

Now, this illusion of her came out and said many things.

Not a single word of it was useless. Each one was a clue for a new beginning.

But Enkrid ignored her.

‘Enough illusions.’

The moment he made up his mind, Oara vanished.

‘I learned. I moved forward.’

And that brought him to the present.

His heart was calm, and his head was clear. Thanks to rest and recovery.

And with that serenity, the answer came to him.

Go beyond just learning and understanding.

His instincts told him—this was the time.

In other words, it was time to restructure and build.

He had seen and felt so much until now. He pulled one out to use as the cornerstone.

‘Wave-Blocking Sword belongs to the Sword of Balance.’

Its foundation he had learned from Ragna.

What Ragna did instinctively thanks to her natural talent—he could replicate through calculation.

The Sword of Balance is forged through training with the Wave-Blocking Sword.

What Enkrid was doing now was determining the training method for each sword style.

His thoughts continued, and the magic of twilight hadn’t ended yet, so Enkrid wandered freely within it.

He flew, he ran, he swam.

The twilight light became the sky, became a lake, became the ground.

‘The Heavy Sword is for physical strengthening.’

From Balaph’s martial art, he had learned the skill of closing distance and putting all his power into a single strike.

Naturally so.

There aren’t many people who’ll let someone using their bare fists maintain distance over and over.

To this, he added the technique of “Explosion of the Dot,” a will-based skill of the family head. And he had learned from Alexandra how to detonate willpower.

So he would build swordsmanship based on that.

The Heavy Sword is explosion.

He didn’t need to create a complete sword style immediately.

Just laying down the cornerstones was enough—no need to dig deeper yet.

‘Deception is based on the Rua-Garne tactical mindset.’

To that, he’d add the skills from Balen-style mercenary swordsmanship.

Tactics are about seizing favorable advantages.

And Illusion Sword wasn’t just about swinging a blade. It was practically a tactical concept.

Fast swords emerge from optimized thought processes.

‘That one I learned from Rem.’

Rem could judge and swing his axe even in a tiny opening.

Of course, he did it instinctively.

Enkrid did it using the optimization of thought called “flash.”

When it came to speed alone, Rem was the best.

And finally, the Flowing Sword.

‘The Sword of Fortune makes use of every moment.’

To do that, one needs exceptional senses and the ability to utilize every situation.

The Flowing Sword, from the beginning, was all about sensory focus.

You can’t calculate every strike point to parry an attack.

So your ears must hear, your skin must detect the air’s vibration.

‘Gate of the Sixth Sense—Sensory Perception.’

Whatever you name it, it’s the same.

You need to master sensory technique.

It’s impossible without a unique sensitivity.

To that, you add experience.

Countless trials, imprinted into your body.

Even a genius can’t reach the Flowing Sword if they’re too young.

The Sword of Fortune is the ultimate form of that Flowing Sword.

Train your senses, and draw every moment toward your own luck.

That is the pursuit of the Flowing Sword.

The theory was established, and it all built up on solid ground.

Twilight had long since ended.

In fact, night had passed.

“Did you sleep well?”

Like every other morning, the family head approached and asked.

Enkrid, who had stood awake through the night, answered:

“Yes, I slept very well.”

This was a path he walked on his own—not something taught to him.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy.

“Thank you for saving Zaun.”

The family head, again, offered his familiar line.

And Enkrid simply smiled.

In some ways, this plain, steadfast sincerity felt like the true symbol of Zaun.

And that afternoon, a new visitor arrived.

It was just about the time Anne had mentioned. In other words, the point when he was thinking about leaving—And the moment Ragna had been absent for two days straight.