A Knight Who Eternally Regresses
Chapter 448

"It was a light wave."

These were Oara's words after returning from killing Ghoulra.

The cry of a ghoul, as if rising from the depths of the underworld.

The scale of it was dizzying.

The existence of Ghoulra, whose arm could stretch unnaturally.

For an average person, panic would have been understandable, but Enkrid couldn't help but agree with Oara's words.

Four squires, two junior knights, and one knight.

This force displayed overwhelming combat power.

Enkrid also noticed something else: the tactical formation of this city.

‘Use squires and junior knights as a wall while the knight intercepts.’

It was a simple but efficient strategy that clearly divided the roles of shields and spears.

The remaining soldiers would focus entirely on ranged shooting.

The soldiers on the city wall all held longbows, each one of top quality, made from the bones of magical beasts.

It was like a turtle peeking out from its shell.

The turtle shoots arrows but takes the risk.

The rest can be dealt with by the knight, if needed.

Didn’t Oara just prove that a moment ago?

With a single swing of her sword, Oara killed Ghoulra and casually returned.

She didn’t even bathe in black blood, nor did she need to sever the heads of a dozen ghouls she had slain.

Of course, no ghoul could reattach its severed head. Even trolls couldn’t do that kind of trick.

"These bastards, one day I’ll kill them all. I’ll clear this magical realm and plant orange trees here!"

Oara grinned widely, showing her teeth with a refreshing smile.

Being able to smile like that while saying such things was a skill in itself.

‘So Oara doesn’t smile for no reason.’

The soldier who survived the monster’s charge kneeled inside the gate, roaring in relief.

"I’m alive!"

Oara chuckled at that, and so did the four squires and the two junior knights. They all lived with smiles on their faces.

Enkrid smiled too.

It was enjoyable and impressive.

"Interesting people," Lua Garne honestly commented.

"Yeah, it’s nice to watch," Rem agreed.

"Not heading home?" Dunbakel asked, instinctively avoiding the topic.

Enkrid, despite hearing all of this, kept his gaze on Oara and those standing near her.

Swish.

The red cloak fluttered in the wind.

A symbol of the knights.

Oara, the core of this knightly order, sensed Enkrid’s gaze and looked at him. Facing the wind, she spoke.

"Next time, let’s fight together."

Enkrid nodded.

***

"Hey, the bread’s burnt!"

Oara was still cheerful and lively. She wandered through the market, greeting people as she ate a slightly browned piece of bread.

"Is she an interesting person? I don’t know. But one thing’s for sure: I can’t gauge her."

Aisia casually remarked, coming over as usual to chat.

"Shall we have a spar?"

"If you think I’m the same Aisia as before, you’re in for a surprise."

Enkrid instinctively opened his mouth, as though he were going to speak to Rem, but he held back.

"What? You had something to say?" Aisia noticed his expression and asked.

"No," Enkrid replied, picking up his sword. A normal spar, a way to check his progress.

If he could unify his senses, wouldn’t that make other things possible?

Beast’s Heart, Heart of Might, Severance, a handful of breaths.

What Rem had taught was a mountain of things.

Was it Rem’s intention to give them names, or was there another reason?

‘It was probably to teach.’

Maybe that was it.

He started with naming and defining things because he wasn’t confident in explaining them.

What Enkrid realized by watching Rem was that everything he taught naturally flowed from his body. The techniques and skills honed in the realm of instinct came out on their own.

Enkrid had things that naturally flowed, and things that didn’t.

So perhaps, it was just a matter of making everything flow naturally from the start.

"What are you staring at?"

The western barbarian, looking as though he wasn’t driven out of his mind, continued sharpening his axe. By now, he was on his third sharpening stone.

‘Just swinging my sword.’

If strength was needed, he would use strength.

If boldness was needed, he would act accordingly.

Oara’s words, telling him to throw things away, mixed into his time.

Enkrid spent his time like that.

"You’ve decided to walk your own path, huh? That’s not a bad choice."

Oara didn’t claim her words to be the truth.

When people gather in heat, they all take on different colors. Even when white gathers, it’s the same.

Is it any different for knights?

Ragna is different, the mercenary king is different.

So, Enkrid would be different too.

The time spent refining what he had, maybe this was something he needed.

It was dawn. Surprisingly, Rem was out before Enkrid.

While reviewing his past insights, Rem spoke.

"It’s not bad."

The dawn before the sun rises is always the darkest. The surroundings were pitch black.

Though the air here was still sticky, probably because of the magical realm, the wind had become much cooler than before.

Rem looked up at the dark sky, one hand resting on his waist, watching the fading stars.

When the sun rose, the stars would vanish, just like the two moons that had lit the night.

"Do you remember Utkiora?" Rem asked. Enkrid lowered the tip of his sword and nodded in response.

"Before the dawn, it’s said to be the darkest."

"That’s right, but I think that’s a message I need too."

"What do you mean?"

"I have to go west."

Was he going to return and come back, or was he now going to find his place?

Even Rem wasn’t sure. Honestly, he wouldn’t know until he went. It wasn’t like he left because of something major, though there were various reasons. Still, it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a part of him acting on impulse.

If he had to give a reason:

‘It’s just not fun there.’

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He was leaving to find something more enjoyable.

But the mad captain’s side was fun. It still was.

In Rem’s view, this city was like a candle in the wind. A little stronger gust would bring it down.

Yet, the knight was the one holding onto the city.

Why did that person go to such lengths to protect it? Rem didn’t really want to ask here.

Instead, he thought about the place he had left behind.

There were people there who would protect what he had left.

He wanted to return to them and ask.

Though the foolish captain and the wild cat had provoked him, Rem knew it was time to look back at what he had left behind.

It wasn’t a thought from his head, but from his heart.

"Well, then."

Enkrid answered flatly. He was never the type to force things.

"Damn it, let’s fight. I’m in the mood. I’ll play today."

Rem grinned broadly, holding up his well-sharpened axe.

Even in the dim light of dawn, the axe’s blade gleamed faintly.

"Has coming close to the magical realm made you more sensitive? Then I guess you’ll need some treatment."

Enkrid also drew his sword and replied.

Aker, too, appeared in the dark of dawn, showing his form.

Rem enjoyed the banter.

"If I used that as a benchmark, the captain would be the best in the continent."

"Yeah, let’s treat it."

The treatment was similar to Enkrid’s usual persuasion.

So, light contact would be necessary. If needed, a light cut with the blade, drawing a little blood, would be part of the treatment.

Just like draining a boil, Rem might need a little slice through his head.

"You really didn’t get the point when I told you to stop flapping your mouth."

Rem spoke as he moved. By the time he spoke the word “understand,” he was already in motion.

To Enkrid, it looked like the axe vanished before his eyes and immediately dropped from above.

Thud!

Naturally, he blocked it.

It was a normal spar.

However, Enkrid seemed to have regressed compared to before.

It was a process of not using everything and mixing things up.

Just like baking proper bread requires fermentation, Enkrid needed time.

Rem knew this but still pressed hard.

It was natural that skills would grow when one felt the threat of death.

Still, it was painfully slow.

"It’s damn slow."

Rem complained, just as he always did.

Enkrid spent several more days sparring with Rem, Lua Garne, and Aisia in a similar routine.

Millio’s dream remained unchanged, and he occasionally came to visit Enkrid.

"Don’t give up, soldier. No matter what anyone says."

"...Does it really look that hopeless?"

Milio would sometimes respond to heartfelt encouragement with a sulky reaction, but he also never knew when to give up.

Oara was often seen wandering around the city.

In the meantime, Enkrid was able to spar briefly with Oara’s junior knight, not Aisia.

“I don’t do sparring,” the short-haired blonde said, claiming her techniques weren’t suited for such matches, leaving only the large man.

“This is for smashing and crushing,” he said as he pulled out a gray, blunt weapon. The handle was similar to a greatsword but thicker. It was understandable, considering his hand was large enough to match it.

Enkrid gauged the distance, asking, “I hear everyone here has a nickname?”

“Well, some soldiers have nicknames to cheer them on, but you should know. Will means resolve. The nickname can serve to conjure the mental image that stirs that resolve,” he explained.

“Then, what’s your nickname?”

“People call me the Crusher, Roman.”

Enkrid briefly imagined nicknames for his own squad members.

Aoudin, the praying one.

Jaxon, the one who secretly stabs.

Ragna, the one who gets lost.

Rem, the one who rages.

They fit well.

“Let’s go,” Roman said, and Enkrid noticed something strange in Roman’s movements.

All of his movements were sloppy and unrefined. There were too many openings.

The battle style was specifically designed with armor in mind, and it was meant for fighting magical beasts.

Despite that, it felt lacking. If pierced, he seemed like he would bleed profusely.

“No more jokes, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) just do it properly once.”

At the end of the spar, Roman grinned and took a few deep breaths before striking his sword downward.

The weapon was like a disappearing club.

In that moment, Enkrid recalled the lightning-fast strikes of Ragna’s sword, the bull charge of the mercenary king, and the time an Azpen knight had pierced his heart.

Finally, he remembered Oara’s strike that took down Ghoulra.

Roman’s downward swing was in the realm of a knight’s territory.

Enkrid focused, feeling for the movement of the club.

If he hadn’t experienced countless lightning-fast strikes from Ragna’s sword, he might not have been able to follow the speed of the swing.

The gray blur vanished and then rushed toward his shoulder.

Enkrid’s sword moved.

Clang, thud, rattle!

Even though he parried it with Aker and steadied it with Gladius, everything didn’t go as planned.

Enkrid was pushed back but managed to release the remaining shock.

“How was it?” Roman asked. His expression didn’t look good.

It was obvious he was pushing himself too hard.

“What did you do?”

Roman liked the man in front of him more than he expected. It wasn’t just that he knew how to fight, but he embodied the spirit of Thousand Brick.

“Laugh and die.

"Train today, even if you die tomorrow.”

That spirit.

Roman had shown him that.

“I’m not telling you,” Roman said.

While he couldn’t give away his secret move, he felt Enkrid was a worthy competitor, not just someone he could easily teach.

Enkrid understood why the short-haired blonde didn’t want to spar with him. She had mastered killing techniques, and if they fought ten times, she would lose every time.

So, it was a matter of not wanting to lose.

“Is that so?” Enkrid didn’t seem disappointed. In fact, quite the opposite. A faint smile spread across his face.

“You’re kind of a freak,” Roman said before leaving.

“That’s true,” Enkrid muttered as he heard Lua Garne agree with Roman, though it didn’t register in his mind.

Enkrid had defeated Roman in their sparring. It wasn’t a complete domination, and they didn’t fight in the death-or-life realm, but conservatively speaking, Enkrid felt that if they fought properly ten times, he would win at least eight of those.

However, the final downward strike Roman showed was different.

It resembled the strike of a true knight.

How could he do that?

It was something to think about.

The next morning, Enkrid woke up feeling unusually light.

He always made sure to check his physical condition and maintain it. He ate well, slept well, and took care of everything else, but even so, some days his body felt particularly good.

Today was one of those days.

The sun was high, and the sticky air had cleared up, making breathing easier.

The area near the magical realm usually had a stuffy air that made breathing uncomfortable, but today was different.

A refreshing breeze blew.

It wasn’t too hot, nor too cold.

After washing up and training, Enkrid was hungry when a soldier who had been baking bread came over and handed him a loaf.

“I’ve baked the best bread I’ve had in years.”

The warm white bread steamed as it was handed over.

Baked in the western style, the bread had a yellowish crust with a soft, chewy white inside.

He broke it in half and took a bite. The savory and salty flavors harmonized, and the subtle umami made him nod in appreciation.

“It’s really well-baked.”

“I said it was,” the soldier who gave him the bread smiled calmly before walking away.

Milio, carrying a spear, longbow, and quiver of arrows, approached as if on his way to duty.

“It’s a great day. You rarely see weather like this in the city of bricks. You should go to the west wall. There’s a magnificent view to see.”

“Really?”

“You must go.”

Milio’s parting words made Enkrid take a step forward. The sun was rising.

He made his way to the west wall, resting his hand on the railing that didn’t gather dust easily and climbing the stairs.

There were familiar and unfamiliar faces on the city wall. One soldier, recognizing him, gestured in acknowledgment.

Enkrid nodded casually and then looked up at the sky.

Milio’s words proved true.

From the city wall, Enkrid saw the sun rise from the east, pushing away the ominous darkness created by the magical realm.

The dawn of the magical realm created a thick gray mist, but the sunlight shattered and broke it apart.

It was a sight to behold.

The waves of sunlight seemed to crush the land shaped by the magical realm.

It wasn’t something he could see every day, but it was a rare and magnificent sight around this time of day.

What a breathtaking view.

After a brief moment of appreciating the profound natural change, Enkrid walked back and found a silver coin on the ground.

The food he had eaten that day tasted particularly good, and the beer was cool and savory.

The magnificent view, the silver coin, and the delicious food.

It was a joyful day, and all the changes in his mindset carried over into his training.

With every swing of his sword, there was something to feel, and the sword moved as he intended.

It was a fulfilling and satisfying day—one blessed with luck.

And after the evening sunset had disappeared, Oara came to visit.

“You said your grandfather built the gate, right?”

That was true.

“Let’s talk, it’s a good day.”

It was the kind of conversation that could seem trivial but also a chance to get to know each other.

Enkrid personally thought it was a pleasant time.

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