A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Enkrid took a step forward, his injured forearm tightly wrapped in bandages.

The black blood stuck to the sole of his boot dragged in a long smear before dropping off, showing its stickiness. The blood of the tiger beastman was a little thick.

The beast had died with its ear torn, one foreleg severed, its skull split open, and its intestines spilled across the ground.

Just looking at the wounds made it clear this wasn’t settled in one or two sword strikes.

Even though he was a knight—and one with high-level martial prowess—the beast had charged him fearlessly. Thanks to that, it was a decent bit of fun.

“Not bad.”

The beast’s movements were dynamic, frequently defying prediction.

Enkrid had layered the Wavebreaker Sword with the Sword of Coincidence to block its attacks. Then stabbed, slashed, and struck with a flash.

While fighting, he focused on its dynamism. There was much to learn.

“How to apply force.”

The core of the Balrafian martial art lies in rotation. More precisely, in twisting the body and wringing out power.

And to exert such monstrous strength, the vessel must be firm.

That’s why the body must be trained to the limit.

Solid bones, tempered muscles, and a structure capable of executing thoughts the instant they arise.

Within the tiger beastman’s dynamic movements were all the key elements Enkrid had been considering.

“Each strike of its forepaw was heavy.”

It also had techniques that defied expectation.

Fwoosh.

It spewed fire and, from a distance, slashed its claws to send a formless blade flying at him.

Clang!

If he hadn’t sensed it with an instinct that went beyond perception and swung Three Iron to deflect the invisible blade, he would’ve been deeply cut somewhere.

Beastmen that used supernatural powers and spells weren’t exactly common. And this one also used its head.

“Hit and run.”

When it closed in, it poured weight into a blow; when retreating, it used its abilities.

That was both a tactic and a strategy. Watching it taught him more.

“No matter how many sword arts you master, it’s still the person who uses them.”

That was another lesson, this time from a tiger beastman that used supernatural powers alongside its dynamic movements.

It was like reviewing what he already knew while watching it demonstrated in front of his eyes—an excellent study.

“Hoo.”

Enkrid exhaled, plucked a broad leaf from nearby to wipe his sword, then roughly cleaned the blood on his body.

He was planning to leave just like that.

“Whatever the village is hiding.”

That’s their business.

And it’s not like Enkrid fought expecting some kind of reward.

Strictly speaking, he had stepped forward out of a feeling of confronting past regrets, and trying to explain that would sound like making excuses. Saying “I just helped” felt equally absurd.

If Rem had been watching, he’d probably have said, “You want to brag but don’t want to look lame, so you’re acting cool and walking away, right?” in that friendly snark of his—but so what?

What mattered was that those people would live a while longer.

If Aitri and Brunhilt grew up well, they’d survive even longer.

If they came looking for the Border Guard later on, that wouldn’t be so bad either. But he wasn’t about to force anything.

He’d ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) give them the choice—but he wouldn’t dictate their future.

“Feeling a little lighter now?”

A woman holding a child’s hand walked out to the village entrance and spoke.

She looked just like when they first met. Worn but carefully stitched clothes, and a child who wasn’t chubby but had bright eyes.

Just one among many he had failed to protect, though she had been behind his back.

The village was gone. The people were dead. Yet Enkrid found comfort in her words.

“If you live yesterday forever, you won’t even notice the sun rise on tomorrow.”

No one had taught him that line—it simply came to mind. Even if you repeat today, you must walk toward tomorrow. So you can’t stay stuck in the past.

“And I can’t delay any longer either.”

He’d already spent about a month in the village. That was a lot of time.

It was a lush, green mountain. The weather was now hot enough that if he didn’t switch to lighter clothes, he’d get rashes at the joints. Enkrid walked in the direction of the sun. His shadow stretched long behind him, matching his stride.

He washed up by a stream and hadn’t even walked half a day when—

It wasn’t yet time for the Border Guard to show up, but a dense presence filled the air.

“Refined blades.”

It felt like blades forged for days by a master blacksmith. That was how the presence of the group approaching felt.

Fully trained soldiers were encircling the area as they advanced.

Compared to them, the beastman packs he had fought for days were practically children.

Enkrid was on a steep downward slope, so he could see the area below. But thick underbrush concealed the approach, and he couldn’t see them clearly.

Rustle. Crackle. Creak.

Only small, artificial noises echoed in his ears.

Enkrid placed a hand on Three Iron’s hilt. It was tied at his waist with twisted branches. With just a bit of strength, it would instantly fulfill its purpose.

He also used fairy movement to mask his presence, but then—a faint sign touched his back.

“Subtle.”

No, it was beyond subtle. Quieter than a many-tailed fox. Its presence was more hidden than a beast-turned-monster. It reeked of danger—more than any creature he’d met in Zaun.

Enkrid shifted his footing. Being attacked from both front and back here would be disadvantageous. Naturally, he adjusted his position to one that gave him even a slight advantage. From a stance looking downhill, he twisted his body sideways.

Now the stealthy one was to his left, and the soldiers were coming up from the right.

Just as he finished preparing, someone with a particularly fierce presence among the refined ones poked their head up from the underbrush.

Gray hair, dull gray eyes. A hatchet swayed from his waist as he looked at Enkrid, and the wildness in his eyes didn’t lose out even to the Tiger Beast King.

He was like a bow fully drawn, ready to let fly at any moment.

Originally, his hair had been dyed brown, but now he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“What are you doing here?”

Enkrid asked, and Rem, resting a hand on his axe, scratched his chin and replied,

“...Taking a walk?”

Taking a walk—and you brought your personal unit with you? And they’re all armed to the teeth.

Beside Rem, a man with a body massive enough to be mistaken for a bear beastman stepped out.

And yet he’d managed to hide that frame in the underbrush?

He straightened and smiled as he spoke.

“I was walking in accordance with divine guidance.”

“...And that guidance just happened to involve bringing your entire unit?”

Behind Audin, members of the Border Guard known as the Fanatics stared silently over.

Anyone could tell—they were ready for a fight.

“Your movements follow the tactical blade style, don’t they? You’ve improved.”

Lua Gharne was here, too. She focused entirely on the changes in Enkrid.

So what if they’d met here by chance?

What mattered was that he’d changed again.

Frokk’s bulging eyes gleamed with curiosity and desire. That was because actual oil had leaked into his eyes.

Jaxon, who had first hidden his presence, came down from above. Enkrid looked at him and asked,

“You?”

“More like—what were you doing, Commander?”

“Traveling with an imperial knight.”

“Traveling with?”

Somehow, Kraiss was also here. The last voice came from behind Lua Gharne, spoken by Kraiss himself. Enkrid met his gaze and continued,

“I found a secluded village.”

“And so?”

Kraiss’s interjection was as sharp as one of Ragna’s sword strikes.

What was he supposed to say?

That he went to save them?

“There were lots of beastmen, so I handled them.”

One reason Enkrid thought he shouldn’t delay further—was these people.

He figured if he stayed still, they’d come looking.

Though he hadn’t expected them to come fully prepared for war.

“Ragna said that was impossible. So why did you gather everyone like this alone?”

Kraiss scolded.

In truth, most of them had probably figured it out the moment Enkrid mentioned beastmen and a village. He was saving people again and got delayed, wasn’t he?

And Rem said it aloud.

“So you went off to help someone again and made sure that those standing behind me wouldn’t die. And that’s how you came back?”

“...I didn’t say that.”

“Bet you said something similar.”

“I didn’t.”

The villagers had been too wary for him to say something like that.

Kraiss shook his head and added,

“Anyway, if you were any later, His Majesty would’ve abandoned the southern border and personally gone sightseeing in the Empire.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Rem, Audin, Jaxon—they all made excuses, but they were looking for Enkrid.

Were they really ready to start a war with the Empire?

Maybe those three were.

Enkrid didn’t know it, but Jaxon had even considered using the power of Geor Dagger.

And Kraiss? Enkrid could guess why he’d come.

“Even if I can’t mediate, we can’t start with a losing battle.”

You can’t negotiate from a weak position. And if fighting broke out immediately, he’d probably try to stop it one last time.

Still, it was surprising. That coward showing up in person.

At least, that’s what Enkrid thought—but the truth was quite different.

Kraiss was plenty worried. What if that crazy commander really kicked up a storm in the Empire?

Ragna had returned earlier and claimed he’d just gotten lost and would guide the way—but not a single person in the Border Guard approved.

Even Anne, who had reestablished ties with Ragna, opposed it.

In the end, Ragna backed down and said,

“Nothing will happen.”

He was full of conviction. Meaning that an imperial knight wouldn’t be able to do anything to Enkrid.

In any case, Kraiss showing up wasn’t about stopping him—it was about striking first before the enemy could prepare, if they’d made up their mind to fight.

And this wasn’t even the end. Behind him, Rophod and Pell would be bringing their own units, meaning this was a full deployment.

“If something had happened to the Commander—”

If the Empire had done it, they’d have paid the price.

Kraiss quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He’d gotten carried away, but seeing Enkrid cooled his head and brought reality back into focus.

“At this rate, he’s gonna die early.”

Yeah... thoughts like that came to mind.

“But.”

Enkrid opened his mouth to ask something, but Kraiss spoke first.

“Esther said that mages usually appear from places you don’t expect, and said she’d join as a follow-up unit. Shinar said there’s a lot to show to those who underestimate fairy power, and she headed to the city of Kirheis. Naturally, she said she’ll join the second wave.”

If Enkrid had delayed a little longer, an all-out war would’ve broken out.

“...Are you all insane?”

He asked in earnest.

“And you think you’re in any position to say that?” Rem shot back.

Audin chuckled and nodded in agreement. Then Jaxon nodded in sync with Rem’s words—a rare sight.

To Enkrid, it was a shock just to see those three moving in unison like that.

Well, since they met here, there’d be no more misfortune.

Enkrid scratched his head.

“Shall we go back?”

There was nothing more to say.

“Yes.” Kraiss answered on everyone’s behalf.

When they returned to the Border Guard, Ragna—who’d said everything would be fine—was already prepared to set out with ten members of his personal unit.

Enkrid also saw the fairies gathered with fierce energy, as if emotion was a luxury.

The green wave of the Dryads and the brown tide of the Woodguards, and in between them, Shinar drew her sword.

“Let’s go. Time to avenge my husband.”

“Who’s whose husband, exactly?”

Enkrid blocked the fairy army’s advance.

“Instead of studying the stars, you almost went tearing through the largest nation humans ever built.”

Esther, too, had returned upon hearing of Enkrid’s situation.

And within two days, a letter arrived from Crang.

—I was just sightseeing in the Empire.

It was short but rich in meaning.

Enkrid found the whole thing absurd, but to be honest, he didn’t feel bad about it.

Later, he made time to ask Leona for a few favors and passed along a message to Kraiss.

***

Harkventyo, having defeated the beastman horde and stabilized the situation, waited for Enkrid. If he had to describe his mood, it would be half anxiety, half anticipation.

“We can escape the beastmen’s grasp.”

That was the hopeful side.

“What does he want in return?”

That was the anxious one.

But that anxiety remained unresolved after four days.

The beastman attacks had tapered off.

Even as the village was being reorganized, he did not return.

“Why?”

The question lingered.

It was answered during a conversation with the old woman who served as both midwife and healer.

“Seems he just helped and left. Like he was possessed.”

The old woman said, and Harkventyo realized just how shamefully he’d acted.

“He didn’t desire anything...”

But he didn’t ignore them either.

Shame. Embarrassment. He wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

He hadn’t even properly said “thank you.”

He had received a long scar across his chest while fighting the beastmen—but the one carved inside was deeper still. It would be called shame.

“Why?”

Why help and just leave?

And it didn’t even end there.

Though he finished the beastman battle, the reality remained. It was still summer, but they had run out of stored food.

“Hello?”

A merchant arrived. A man with a cleaner impression than the one who’d come before.

“I’m Malton, a merchant with the Lockfried Caravan. Got anything to trade? I brought food, clothing, and daily necessities.”

The merchant named Malton set down his bundle. Over ten people followed—guards and well-armed escorts.

Seeing them, Harkventyo lifted his head, and Malton spoke his prepared line.

“I don’t intend harm. If you don’t want to trade, I’ll leave all this and go. But if I were you, I’d trade with me. The folks who dealt with this village before weren’t exactly good people. I think you know why I came. I’m here on behalf of someone who stayed here before leaving.”

Malton spoke the truth. The previous merchants who had come to buy herbs or sell goods had wrung out excessive profits.

You could rightly say they sold their conscience cheap.

Malton had done the same kind of work before—he knew how it was.

“Well?”

Malton asked, and Harkventyo nodded.

Thus, the man who had received a favor opened his heart.

“We have something precious in our village. You must deliver it to him.”