A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 436

Rem had seen Enkrid’s desperate efforts, but didn’t bother stepping in.

He rarely involved himself in the swordsmanship ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) discussions that came up between sparring matches.

“If it hurts, take a break.”

Even Enkrid had told him that once, and still, Rem never truly engaged.

“Mind your business.”

Even then, Rem only drew a line subtle enough not to seem sensitive.

After Lua Gharne began actively participating, Rem no longer sparred with Enkrid as intensely as before.

He would exchange blows with him now and then—just barely.

“You wanna fight? Come on, then.”

At those times, he would still offer instruction.

It was still a kind of teaching that prioritized fists over words.

To Rem’s eyes, Enkrid hadn’t changed much. His progress was slow enough to be frustrating. But at least he wasn’t regressing.

He was moving forward.

That was enough for Rem. He chose to just observe.

There were plenty of others who could train with Enkrid.

He didn’t need to jump in for sparring anymore.

He’d help out here and there, adjusting his breathing to sync with Enkrid’s rhythm.

But even that faded once Enkrid found his footing.

So these days, Rem spent most of his time either swinging an axe alone or occasionally pestering Dunbakel.

Sometimes he’d take trips into the Pen-Hanil mountain range. A sort of walk, whenever he felt his body getting stiff.

Granted, when Rem went on one of those “walks,” the monsters of the Pen-Hanil range would end up bleeding into the dirt by the time he came back.

He was heading out for one of those strolls again.

“If you’re going anyway, would you mind taking care of that pack of dog-faced beasts?”

Kraiss approached the casually striding Rem. He was wearing a feathered hat—where he’d gotten it, no one knew—but somehow, what would’ve looked ridiculous on anyone else suited Kraiss perfectly.

“Got it.”

Rem gave a loose nod.

As Rem’s back receded into the distance, Kraiss turned to his adjutant and lover, Nurat, who had just stepped up beside him.

“Something going on with him lately? Why’s he so quiet? I don’t like this. Really don’t like it.”

“Isn’t quiet a good thing?”

His dark-skinned lover tilted her head. Wasn’t Rem being noisy the real problem?

“Hey, I’m bored. Let’s throw down.”

He used to constantly pester nearby squads and officers.

“You call that swordplay? Come here, I’ll teach you from scratch. What an honor! You’re getting lessons from the undying Rem! Now shout, ‘Immortal!’ on the first swing, ‘Rem, my lord!’ on the second! Hahaha!”

He’d crank the training intensity to insane levels.

“This is supposed to be food? The chicken’s so raw it’s gonna lay eggs any minute now. Step aside. I’ll show you what cooking means.”

He once boiled a western-style stew so foul it traumatized the entire squad’s taste buds.

According to Enkrid, Rem actually could cook a decent meal—so that had just been plain spite.

Of course, Enkrid still ate it just fine.

“It’s nutritious. Healthy stuff.”

That was his review.

Ragna overturned the pot just from the smell.

Audin asked, “Is this another trial?” and solemnly ate a few spoonfuls before going silent.

Jaxon would just quietly step outside whenever Rem started pulling that kind of crap—and so did Kraiss.

Nurat had seen it all from up close, which is why she couldn’t help thinking: wasn’t this better?

She hadn’t said “quiet is good” for nothing. She was recalling all the chaos he used to cause.

Kraiss let out a thoughtful hum and said, “Yeah, true. But the way I see it… I feel like the next thing he pulls is gonna be big. Like, real big.”

Lately, the dog-faced beasts in the mountains had multiplied, but they were no real threat to Rem. Not even close.

While Kraiss was busy worrying, Rem just did what he always did.

Even with the axe handle balanced on his forehead in a little performance, lost in thought—

Even when the dog-faced beasts of Pen-Hanil swarmed him in a pack, forming a colony.

“Graaaagh!”

With a screech like grinding steel, the colony’s leader spat fire from its mouth.

Like it had swallowed a firestone wrong.

Rem read the trajectory and sidestepped. It wasn’t difficult.

This creature didn’t even have the eyes to judge its opponent’s strength.

I miss the West, he thought.

Monsters and beasts over there often wielded cunning as their weapon.

Things like this were just warm-ups.

With that thought, Rem took the beast’s flank and swung his axe.

The descending blade cleaved through its neck.

The axe blade, forged from Lewis steel, cut through hide, muscle, and bone.

Splatter!

Black blood sprayed everywhere, and the severed head rolled down a slope.

Graaargh!

The rest of the beasts lunged, and Rem cut down those who came close with a few effortless swings.

It was nothing difficult.

After a few idle swings with his axe, Rem turned and headed back to camp.

Just as he did, Enkrid was reading through a letter—one of those “requests” that basically meant missions—and deciding who would accompany him.

“I’m coming with.”

Coincidentally, the destination was near the western region.

He’d already made up his mind to go, but hadn’t quite committed emotionally.

Now, though, the decision was final.

At this rate, he’d just keep falling behind that bastard Ragna.

"Can’t let that slide."

***

Crang sat in the grand hall, watching ministers go on about conserving krona, and fell into thought.

Was it something that happened every few years?

He’d heard it from Marcus and had seen it for himself.

The borderlands near the Demon Realm were dangerous in more ways than one, and often severely understaffed.

It was a place that lacked talent, lacked manpower—and was perilous on top of that.

Who in their right mind would want to be stationed there?

In a way, it’s like a bottomless jar that just swallows up budget.

If only it were just an ordinary jar. But no—it was a magical one that would spit out poison if you didn’t keep it filled.

If left unchecked, the surge of monsters and beasts would cost them entire regions of land.

That was one of the reasons they couldn’t afford to play their knight card during the civil war.

And then there’s Rihinstetten in the south.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

So it wasn’t just the Demon Realm frontier that lacked personnel—every region was strained.

The situation in Naurillia was worse than Crang had anticipated.

At any moment, they could be devoured by the southern kingdoms or face incursions from the Demon Realm, and Azpen hadn’t fully backed down either, still a persistent thorn.

“So?”

He could almost hear Enkrid’s voice asking.

Yeah, so what?

He was already seated on the throne. Crang had to do what needed doing.

A knight named Oah, stationed at the Demon Realm frontier, had sent yet another request.

They needed manpower—fighters, specifically.

“If possible, send more than five hundred troops. If that’s not feasible, then at least three to four quasi-knight–level forces, preferably accompanied by a trained ranger unit. Otherwise, we’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the request.”

The Border Guard had initiated road construction inspired by the Guard’s public order policy, with outposts lined along those routes. A simple project, but labor-intensive.

They also had to sweep away monsters and beasts in the surrounding areas and keep a lid on the bandits who popped up like freshly baked bread.

There was no room to spare the troops.

Was that all?

While the people recognized his rule, there were now murmurs of discontent.

Should a bastard really sit on that throne?—so went the whispers.

Of course, most of them were fools manipulated by foreign powers.

All the legitimate nobles and officials were firmly in Crang’s camp.

He set aside the complicated thoughts.

Instead, he focused on the most pressing issues—what needed to be done now.

If he didn’t take big steps, he’d never even make a few paces before dying.

Whose dream is bigger—yours or mine?

It was something he wanted to ask that bastard Enkrid.

Crang turned to the stained glass windows. The sky beyond was dull and overcast.

“There is another way, Your Majesty.”

It was the Marquis of Baisar.

“What is it?”

Crang’s eyes shifted from the window to the Marquis.

“Isn’t there a force in the Border Guard stronger than a quasi-knight?”

“You think he’ll go just because we ask?”

“If the king commands it, he must.”

“But he’s the demon slayer, isn’t he?”

“And yet you suggest defying a royal order?”

Nobles began chiming in, one after another.

“Naurillia has a mercenary conscription system, Your Majesty,” said Marcus.

“Frame it as a formal request, and offer appropriate compensation,” added the Marquis.

“The treasury is empty.”

Crang didn’t even wait for the Marquis to finish before responding.

The three of them were volleying lines like actors in a well-rehearsed play.

“We’ve begun generating krona by securing trade rights,” the Marquis continued, “but producing food independently through premium breeding or crop cultivation is still a distant goal. On the surface, things may seem stable—but there’s still much lacking.”

“There are people here with expertise in such matters,” Marcus added.

The Marquis followed with a few more comments.

Crang thought, Aren’t the two of them perfectly in sync?

They clicked effortlessly.

Of course, he had been the one to get them clicking.

A southern noble, famed for breeding exceptional stallions, had been following the conversation and started to nod in agreement—but something felt off.

So we’re footing the whole bill, aren’t we?

Yes, nobles were supposed to serve their country—but the right to private property had been a long-standing tradition.

This one had offered prized breeding stock, another had offered their knowledge of irrigation and land development.

No one had forced them. It just… happened through discussion.

“Well then, Count Baisar, you’ll handle the request letter?”

“Yes, I’ll see to it.”

And with that, the meeting ended.

Support requests from the Demon Realm frontier were rarely about direct danger—it was always due to a lack of manpower. Crang figured it wouldn’t be a bad job for Enkrid.

Wouldn’t he want to meet a knight?

He already knew Enkrid had met the Mercenary King. But knights of an order were something else entirely.

What Crang didn’t know was that Enkrid had already been mingling with the likes of Ragna and Shinar.