A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Rem burst into a rough guffaw at Enkrid’s words. He laughed so loudly it was embarrassing for the person beside him, then Rem straightened his face and said,

”Talk. Whose orders are you following? That sly little cat bastard? Some zealot whose mom is definitely a bear? That picky-mouthed lazy bum who loses the road every other minute? If not, don’t tell me it’s that tacky country shepherd. It won’t be the disciple of the bear that reeks and beats himself up, either. Let’s see... don’t tell me it’s some turncoat bastard from the Red Cloak Order of Knights with nothing but sharp eyes?”

Enkrid quietly lifted his teacup and tasted it. In the West, teacups don’t have handles. When you hold one, the heat of the tea transfers straight into your hand. There were a few meanings in that.

It lets you judge the tea’s temperature ahead of time, and it keeps a subtle warmth at all times.

It’s one of the West’s customs. You drink tea while it’s warm, and you eat food when you’re hungry.

From that point of view, the tea’s temperature is always kept steady. It means don’t drink tea that’s gone cold—and it’s a consideration that tells you the temperature in advance.

There was also a Westerners’ cultural outlook mixed into it.

Love a child more when the child is young, hold them close when the child is sick, and share joy when the child is happy.

’It’s an interesting culture.’

In the West, they call this ’Maji.’ It means don’t miss the timing.

”Now is ’Maji.’ Spill it all and drink.”

The Great Narae chieftain had shouted that during the festival too, declaring that now was the time to play.

Juol had explained the word earlier. If his dream was finally starting to unfold, then Enkrid’s time to leave had come too.

It was a thought that struck him out of nowhere. And listening to Rem, all sorts of things surfaced and drifted through his mind. Pieces linked up, turning into a single thought.

’You’re looking at the essence, Rem.’

The thought came on its own. If you listened to how Rem described the Mad Order of Knights, it was hard to say he was wrong.

Then Rem poured out something like a fiery speech. The passion was so impressive that at this rate, if Rem ran when they picked the next Great Narae chieftain, he’d get elected unanimously.

”Don’t talk bullshit. If I stay here, there’s more than one bastard eyeing the vice-leader seat. I can’t just leave that spot sitting empty. Damn right.”

Who was the vice-leader?

Enkrid felt the question rise, but he didn’t bother pressing it or asking. Jaxon, the one Rem said looked like a cat, wasn’t here. Neither was Audin, the one with bear blood, or that picky-mouthed lazy bum who was a corpse unless he swung a blade. It was fine to let Rem enjoy himself.

”I’m coming with you. If not now, when am I ever gonna get to fight those bastards to my heart’s content?”

Rem finished in a growling tone. The fighting spirit was still there, and the resolve ran high. In Rem’s words was the West’s wisdom—drink tea while it’s warm. Enkrid had caught it from the start.

’Fight when it’s time to fight.’

Enkrid refreshed the West’s Maji in his mind. The situation suited it.

There were those bound together under the name of the Mad Order of Knights, and the King of Naurillia and Pope Noah of Legion were on one side.

Azpen had been tied to them through war, but now it was a neighboring country and an ally.

’Will the South end up the same?’

Even if it didn’t become like Azpen, for the next few years they wouldn’t start a fight.

In the meantime, they would serve as a barrier blocking the Demon-lands.

The levee treaty’s condition was that Southern Rihinstetten would play the role of that barrier.

Now only one big mountain remained.

’The Empire.’

He had met a few people from the Empire so far, but what the northern overlord wanted was still vague.

Rem wasn’t stupid. No—Rem had outstanding intelligence. Borrowing Kraiss’s words, hadn’t Kraiss said Rem was the best when it came to being sly?

Yeah. That was right.

Sometimes it was fun to hear Kraiss evaluate the order or other people, and hearing Rem evaluate them from the same angle was the same.

Feeling that shared understanding—someone else’s gaze matching his—and listening to each of them express it in a way that fit their nature opened a new view.

For example, the phrase ’whose mom is definitely a bear’ sounded fresh even to Enkrid.

If he ever had to fight someone later, he could use it.

’He says he learned how to provoke from me, but.’

Rem wasn’t easy when it came to scraping at someone’s insides. There was a sense of care in a single phrase so fine you could feel the depth of it.

Enkrid learned again today. There was endless stuff to learn in this world.

”So don’t think about leaving me behind. But this feels kind of bad. What, you think you’ve grown up now?”

Rem wrapped it up. The conclusion was decided, and the resolve not to accept any other opinion was clear in his tone.

”I’ll say it again. There were two things where I was bigger from the start.”

Enkrid answered.

”When I taught you how to walk, I didn’t know your personality was this damn obnoxious. Now that I look at it, it’s obnoxious in a whole new way. You know that?”

Enkrid opened his eyes wide like he was hearing it for the first time and asked back,

”Me?”

Dunbakel snickered at the side.

”Yeah. Honestly, even back then, I knew your personality was weirdly perverted. You told me about making fun of that bald soldier, remember? Later I asked Finn, and Finn said the guy who heard it had veins standing out all the way to his scalp. That’s how pissed he was.”

Enkrid blinked and repeated what he’d said.

”Me?”

The corner of Rem’s mouth lifted. A fang showed between the twisted grin. It looked like a beast’s—sharp enough to stand out. But hearing human language come out of that mouth made it clear Rem wasn’t a beast.

”Dammit. Come out. I’ll fix your manners today.”

Enkrid nodded as if he’d been waiting for it. Words he truly wanted to hear. Beating up only the West’s frail warriors had left him not quite loosened up.

There were mountains of things he wanted to test, and he also wanted to see what Rem had shown before.

The fatigue was gone, and the hallucinations he’d gotten from killing Silence weren’t audible anymore. Mind and body were ready.

It was the same for Rem.

”Let’s do it.”

Enkrid answered.

”Oh.”

Dunbakel took a step back. A clear sign she had no intention of fighting.

Rem sprang up and went out. Enkrid followed.

”Why’s it like this?”

Juol came over and asked, and Dunbakel answered.

”They’re gonna fight.”

”Fight?”

Dunbakel softened the wording. This wasn’t the Mad Order of Knights, so saying it like that would be misunderstood.

”Sparring.”

”Ah.”

Juol nodded. Then he whispered a few words to the Westerners nearby and passed it along. They all scattered in every direction, gathering people.

”It’s a fight!”

”It’s sparring!”

”Who is it?”

”The savior and Rem!”

Rumors moved faster than any words. Faster than Odd-Eye spreading its wings.

Everyone was drawn in and moved at once. People tanning leather, craftsmen making shoes, women weaving grass, children playing, warriors training—small chieftains and even the Great Narae chieftain—came rushing over.

The West revered warriors. A life of fighting to seize scarce resources had become culture, so it couldn’t be helped.

Maybe time would change it, but for the next few decades, their old spirit and nature wouldn’t change.

And because they were Westerners like that, watching a fight was their greatest hobby.

”So who’s fighting who?”

A lot of people had come out after hearing only the word fight.

”The savior and Rem.”

”Oh.”

The eyes of those who learned who the sparring partners were sparkled like never before. Some even looked like they sparkled more than when they heard Silence was gone.

Recently, even a handful of nearby minor chieftains had been invited, so Elder Bear was crowded.

”Who are you betting on?”

In the middle of it all, a gambling round opened.

Even in the West, Rem wasn’t a mad axe-murderer. He had plenty of respect. So there were many who sided with him.

”I’m betting on Rem.”

A few West warriors boldly put krona on him. Several minor tribes did too.

To them, the name savior was just a rumor, but Rem was real. An old warrior who remembered what Rem had done when Rem was in the West couldn’t imagine Rem losing to anyone.

The sight of him—slaughtering dozens of beasts alone, drenched in black blood, laughing loudly—was still vivid.

And in that state, he cut down the neck of someone who called himself a warrior of a cannibal tribe.

Back then, Rem had been a monster. Of course, now that time had passed, there were plenty of warriors who could be compared to the Rem of that time. One of them was here as well.

Even so, if you were going to bet, it made sense to bet on Rem.

”Good. Good. I’m betting on Rem too.”

”You didn’t go over to the continent and loaf around, did you?”

As even more minor tribes joined, the round grew bigger, and Owl joined in too.

”Of course you’re betting on your husband, right?”

There were merchants in the West as well. They’d been swelling in power lately by trading with the Lockfried Caravan.

One of them walked up to Owl and asked.

Owl wasn’t cautious. She dumped her whole pouch into the pot.

Thud.

The wooden board and the pouch of gold coins met with a heavy sound. On this land, who was the woman strongest at winning bets?

Owl asked with action. The gambler swallowed.

It was already a big round, but that was the biggest single stack of krona yet. Gold coins glittered inside the half-open pouch.

The gambler waited for the words that would come out of her mouth. Obviously Rem, right? Which way had the odds tilted? Either way, if the savior won, it would be fine.

”Of course....”

The gambler was about to finish with, ’You’re betting on Rem, right?’ when Owl cut him off.

”The savior.”

The gambler—merchant—doubted his ears.

In the West, a wife’s power in believing in her husband carried a spell-like meaning. In other words, most wives cheered for their husbands.

”...Are you serious?”

The gambler asked.

”Raising a kid takes a lot.”

As the Great Narae chieftain’s daughter, Owl didn’t have little, but working with the caravan had taught her a lot.

’There’s no such thing as too much krona.’

If Kraiss had been here, he would have marveled, saying she was a learned person.

Well, even if she earned it like this, it would probably be spent more on taking in and feeding those who had nothing than on raising the child.

At her words, the gambler lost composure for a moment, then quickly nodded. Either way, he just had to pay out based on the odds.

”Rem! Rem! Rem!”

Cheering voices roared from one side. Rem laughed and lifted a hand to cover one ear.

”You hear that?”

This was his land, and it was the West. Of course there were more people cheering for him. Rem let a little confidence show.

The fight in Silence hadn’t been long, but the density and concentration inside that short time had been thick. He hadn’t learned a little. He’d realized a lot, too.

”Rem! Rem! Rem of the West! The Westerners’ pride!”

With the chaotic shouting as background, Rem puffed himself up.

Then shouts erupted from the opposite side too.

”Sa!”

”vi!”

”or!”

Seeing that they even matched the rhythm, it looked like one lead warrior had attached themselves and set up a cheering operation.

”Demon-lands killer!”

”And the face!”

”Wins!”

There was a difference in volume. It rang out, ears ringing. Someone with weak nerves might have their heart shrink.

Enkrid shrugged.

Not like he’d asked for it, but since it had come to this, what could you do? That was the meaning.

Even the cheering was a blowout.

”Hah. I told you it’s obnoxious.”

Rem spoke and pulled out the weapon hanging at his side. He let his arms hang and looked at Enkrid indifferently.

Other than Enkrid and Dunbakel, no one thought the spar would start already, but Rem had already kicked off the ground.

Boom!

The earth burst and dirt shot up.

The moment he drew the axe, he closed the distance with Enkrid. Whether they were putting half their lives on the line or ending it as light sparring—there was no discussion, no agreement. It didn’t matter.

They hadn’t started playing like this yesterday or the day before.

The instant Enkrid felt Rem’s momentum, Enkrid soothed Night Walk and swung.

’Don’t cut recklessly.’

The blade, close to a cursed sword, resisted its master who was holding himself back, but this was a Will that hadn’t bent even to a demon.

In an instant, Enkrid crushed down Night Walk’s wind and extended it. Then Enkrid’s sword and Rem’s axe met.

Enkrid and Rem couldn’t hear a sound. They were already inside a world without sound. Before the noise of the first clash could even reach them, their weapons had already met more than six times.

They used countless tricks, hunting for a gap. Pretending a foot caught, pretending breathing broke, pretending Will cut out, pretending they were hurt, pretending momentum broke, pretending they made a mistake.

Both of them were clashing with deceptive blades.

Of course, to those watching from outside, nothing could be seen properly.

Pop—

Only the sound of air bursting.

And—

KRAK!

The sound of metal meeting exploded unbelievably loud, slamming into their ears.

Krrrrr—BANG!

Thunder bellowed. Over the clear sunlight, thunderclaps rang out again and again. As those booms crossed, everyone felt pain like their eardrums were being torn.

’At this rate, someone’s going to die.’

A few quick-witted West warriors shoved people far back. If they left it like this, someone really might faint.

This was in front of the stone-built town hall. Everyone in the West pulled even farther away. They’d called it sparring, but shockwaves formed between them and wind whipped into a vortex.

Even from this distance, the booms punched their insides, and the wind slapped their cheeks.

Should they call it a fight between disasters?