A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

“A knight is not the end.”

At Enkrid’s words, Pell lifted his head. His cheeks were bruised, and both arms hung limp at his sides.

He’d taken hits to the shoulders and elbows, making his muscles twitch with spasms. He couldn’t raise his arms.

The result of the spar between a training sword and the idol killer had been decisive.

’Dodge and strike.’

That was the basic principle of swordsmanship. You had to use your footwork.

Pell knew that too—but after being on the receiving end, he began to question everything he thought he knew.

Enkrid didn’t use much footwork. He simply read the attack and struck faster and harder to deflect Pell’s offense and counter.

Why did it turn out this way?

A bloom of confusion flowered beautifully in his chest. And with it, Enkrid’s words began to resonate.

A knight is not the end, but the beginning.

Out there, Pell might already be considered one of the elite among the shepherds of the wilderness—but not here.

Enkrid still swung his sword like a madman every day. And everyone affected by him trained themselves relentlessly. Pell saw it happen every day.

After a single spar, Pell’s god-complex had deflated to a reasonable level, and he’d begun to distinguish what he could do from what he couldn’t.

“What about that bastard Rophod?”

Among the things he could do now, beating Rophod to a pulp definitely seemed feasible.

Pell sought out Rophod, and it wasn’t until the next day that Rophod stepped into the training hall. Naturally, he too had broken through a wall.

The difference between them was that while Pell had indulged in delusions of grandeur, Rophod had skipped that process entirely.

‘Too many monsters around here.’

Every member of the Mad Knights—including Enkrid—was a worthy milestone and goal.

Rophod had seen them. He had measured what they did. That’s why he didn’t succumb to arrogance.

It was a difference in personality, not in skill.

After all, Rophod still hadn’t clearly figured out what he was capable of either.

Regardless, both Pell and Rophod had now naturally learned to use Will. And so, they still treated each other as their greatest rivals.

“Barely keeping up, huh?”

Pell said with a savage grin.

“Who’s chasing who?”

“You’re chasing me?”

“Who am I chasing?”

“Ah, feel better pretending otherwise?”

“Who am I chasing?”

Their bickering felt strangely endearing. Watching them clash swords afterward was just as pleasant.

Of course, one soldier who’d come to deliver a letter looked a little startled when he saw them fighting—but if you’d made it into the Knights’ training hall, this much shouldn’t surprise you.

They’d all seen Rem and Ragna, Rem and Audin, and Rem and Jaxon fight each other often enough. You’d grow numb to it eventually.

The letter was from the Pioneer King in the east.

—Dunbakel didn’t bathe for a whole month and broke through the wall.

What kind of message was this?

There were a few other things mentioned about the East, but the main point was Dunbakel.

Apparently, they were now calling him the “Golden-Eyed Lion” over there.

Something about him refusing to leave, so if you wanted to find him, you’d better be prepared to suffer.

That was the gist of it.

‘I never even tried to hold him back.’

If Dunbakel had decided to stay in the East, then his decision would be respected. Unless Anu was physically holding him captive, there was no reason to go chasing him.

Of course, he would ask about it eventually.

“You busy?”

After reading the letter, Shinar showed up.

“If not, come play with me.”

She didn’t mean it literally. It was a typical fairy-style distortion of the truth.

The Fairy Village had summoned Enkrid. They said they had something to give him.

Before he left, he glanced back and saw Pell and Rophod still sparring evenly, measuring each other’s strength.

Now that they were knights, their individual traits were becoming more distinct.

They probably wouldn’t kill each other now.

And this was the Knights’ training ground. Even if he wasn’t around, someone would step in at the last moment if needed.

“Let’s go, then.”

“You’ve become quite the amusing human, my fiancé.”

Seeing him rise without hesitation, Shinar’s eyes curved. Whatever her reasons for smiling, a fairy’s smile was like a thief—stealing the hearts of humans.

Of course, Enkrid could remain unbothered.

Becoming a knight changed one’s mental fortitude.

When the heart wavers, so does the body.

Once you understand this, you naturally form the habit of steadying your mind at all times.

As Shinar guided him into the fairy city, Woodguard Bran was the first to greet him.

Puff.

White smoke wafted from his mouth. A tree holding fire between its teeth.

“Still smoking?”

“It’s a demon weed. Once you light it, it’s hard to quit.”

They passed the smoking wood fairy at the city gate and walked in. One of the flame-wielding clans silently followed behind after giving a distant nod.

And that wasn’t the end of it. Every pair of fairy eyes trailed him.

Enkrid was their hero. The one who saved the Fairy City. Their idol.

They’d all gathered just to see his face.

“They have good eyes.”

Shinar looked around and spoke. Maybe it was a trick of the ear, but there was pride in her voice.

“Don’t they have work to do?”

A small crowd of fairies followed at a distance, peeking at him from behind trees and bushes, making soft rustling sounds.

To someone else it might have seemed eerie, but Enkrid didn’t mind.

Better this than being forced into a ball and swarmed by noble ladies.

At least here, they were keeping their distance.

Soon, the representative of the fairy clan stepped forward.

Enkrid forgot his name again.

It had been the same after waking up from slaying the One-Killer.

He barely recalled it in time to ask—

“Ermen?”

“This time, you got it.”

With a satisfied smile, Ermen nodded.

“You forget my name too often?”

Shinar spoke offhandedly, and Enkrid suddenly recalled old times.

This fairy had always been mischievous. But he had changed. Now he could take these comments in stride.

‘A lot of time really has passed.’

He had more to protect now—and had protected more. It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t proud.

“Was it Shinar?”

“Oof, that one stung.”

Shinar smiled at the joke. She smiled more often these days.

“Take it.”

Ermen had summoned Enkrid to give him a gift. The clan’s leader handed him a folded cloth.

When he opened it, it fluttered in the wind—it was a deep green cloak.

‘Is that... vitality?’

From the fabric, Enkrid sensed a life force like that of leaves and trees.

“As soon as we settled here, the dryads spent months spinning thread, and poured their hearts into it.”

The cloak shimmered softly, as if absorbing light.

Enkrid draped it over his shoulders.

It adjusted to fit, growing from thigh-length down to his ankles.

‘It’s an enchanted cloak.’

The scent of fresh grass rose from within.

Just wearing it felt like a forest bath.

Cloaks weren’t originally tools for battle—but knights often made use of them.

The Red Cloak Order even used theirs as defensive artifacts against spells.

Even at a glance, you could tell this was made with care and sincerity.

It reminded him of the boots he’d received from that cobbler.

He too had given the best he could within his limits.

Just like the fairies now.

“Looks good. Especially the color.”

And so, the color of the Knights’ symbol shifted—from navy blue to deep green.

Whatever their intent, the insignia of the Border Guard had already been stitched into the cloak.

“What’s this? Changing your cloak color?”

On the way back, Kraiss spotted it and asked. Enkrid nodded.

“Seems that way.”

Even now, Shinar trailed behind, three steps away, eyes gleaming with expectation.

“Green is love.”

She smiled, clearly delighted that he was wearing something representing the fairies.

Later in the afternoon, Esther invited him to go explore the market.

A rare occasion—so he agreed and joined her for a stroll.

“Smiles bloom on people’s faces. How strange.”

Esther observed humanity. Things she hadn’t known in the forest, she now saw and understood.

To her, this city was overflowing with abundance.

“Hey, buy something!”

They passed a giant who’d set up a stall.

“And what are you doing here?”

He even saw Seiki selling herbs.

A girl with saint-level divine power, selling herbs she’d foraged.

But Seiki had lived as a ranger. Identifying and harvesting herbs came naturally.

“I’m not going to mooch forever just because my body’s fine. People need something to do.”

A life of idling, praying, and gazing at stars might be peaceful—but if you neglect diligence, boredom creeps in.

Her attitude carried thoughtful insight.

“Huh? Uncle?”

Then Enkrid met a long-lost uncle.

“Eek.”

He’d forgotten the name. His appearance had changed. The beard trimmed, hair cut short, and he’d even lost weight.

But that expression was unmistakable. Eyes losing focus, mouth falling open.

This was the man who once bragged about being the uncle of the ”Iron Wall Knight” just because Enkrid was friends with Leona, head of the Lockfried caravan—and who ended up getting thoroughly thrashed after bothering Enri’s company.

Funny how he remembered people like Malton but kept forgetting names like Ermen.

“Iron Wall Knight.”

He muttered, and Enkrid nodded.

“Good to see you again. You’ve changed a lot. Got any pocket money?”

Malton was living a different life now. No longer the man who lived like a poisonous toad.

“Yes, as much as you need.”

He answered with clear eyes.

Something really had changed.

Enkrid saw it and nodded. People do change. They really can.

Apparently, Malton now worked for the Lockfried caravan—as a traveling merchant in charge of a team.

“Even visited that village.”

Enkrid shared news from the reclusive village he’d once visited.

“They said you’re welcome anytime. They haven’t forgotten your kindness.”

It wasn’t an exciting story—but it was warm.

From Dunbakel to the hermit’s village—

Today was a day filled with interesting tales.

“Fresh apple pie just came out—take some!”

He chatted with the innkeeper Allen.

Vanessa, now more wrinkled, called out to him from a chair out front.

Fruit vendors greeted him warmly.

The cobbler laughed, saying it had been a while.

He’d dreamed of a day like this.

The apple vendor who sliced off the spoiled part and handed it over anyway.

The old waitress who baked potatoes in the stove.

The crooked old woman who once sold her body and cursed like a sailor.

Mercenaries who fled war and dreamed of peace.

And in that haven where they could all smile, Enkrid walked and greeted them, spending a day like any other.

Even swinging his sword felt more joyful today.

Even joking with Shinar was fun.

Esther, as a witch, observed many new things and had a lot to say. Could this be called chatter? She certainly spoke more than usual.

“Got a bit of time today. So, ta-da—check it out. My salon plan!”

Kraiss looked ready to realize his dream.

He said nobles gathering in the Border Guard would need a place to socialize.

Enkrid even ran into Leona midway.

“That thing we brought from the village... no, I’ll tell you later.”

Beside her stood Kin Baisar.

“Quite a few ladies sighed today, thinking you were spoken for.”

Walking alongside Esther, Enkrid felt many eyes on him—likely referring to them.

The sun was bright, the clouds scattered, and the sky blue.

Back at the Border Guard’s training hall, Ragna was teaching a squad of ten.

Enkrid had explained the framework for knight training, and Ragna was putting some of it into practice.

“Today, no intuition fighting. Let’s go all out for real.”

The evening spar with Rem had also been fun. He was drenched in sweat, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° and Rem’s bursts of wit constantly disrupted his calculations.

And even that disruption—he learned to welcome into his tactical process.

“That’s it.”

Lua Gharne was impressed, and after the match, he and Enkrid spent hours in discussion.

In this city full of things he had protected—surrounded by those who walked with him—

This was the day he’d dreamed of.

And then, in his dream, the Ferryman appeared. And he made a proposal.

“Ahead of you lies not a future of loss, resentment, or despair—but a present of satisfaction and joy. Take your own life before you sleep tonight. That’s all it takes.”

Yes. The Ferryman’s offer... even to Enkrid, it now sounded reasonable.